THE  1  IBRARY 

OF 
THE  UNIVERSITY 

Ol' CALIFORNIA 
RIVERSIDE 


&**^k^-M^ 


Spanish  Vistas 


BY 

GEORGE    PARSONS    LATHROP 


ILLUSTRATED 


CHARLES    S.    REINHART 


NEW    YORK 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  FRANKLIN  SQUARE 
1883 


: 

HA  BROTHERS, 


TO 

FRANCES     M.    LATHROP 

WHOSE  TASTE   FOR   TRAVEL   AM)   OBSERVATION    EARLY   PROMFJ'ED    HIS   OWN 

(Tljcsc  Skctdjcs  arc  Dedicate}) 

BY   HER   SON 

THE   AUTHOR 


PREFACE. 

THE   two   great    Mediterranean   peninsulas   which,  in    opposite   quarters, 
jut  southward  where— as  George  Eliot  says,  in  her  "Spanish  Gypsy"— 

"Europe  spreads  her  lands 
Like  fretted  leaflets,  breathing  on  the  deep," 

may  not  inaptly  be  likened  to  -a  brother  and  sister,  instead  of  taking  their 
places  under  the  usual  similitude  of  "sister  countries."  They  have  points 
of  marked  resemblance,  in  their  picturesqueness,  their  treasures  of  art,  their 
associations  of  history  and  romance  ;  but,  just  as  the  physical  aspect  of  Spain 
and  its  shape  upon  the  map  are  broader,  more  thick-set  and  rugged  than  the 
slender  form  and  flowing  curves  of  Italy,  so  the  Spanish  language— with  its 
Arabic  gutturals  interspersed  among  melodious  Unguals  and  vowel  sounds- 
has  been  called  the  masculine  development  of  that  Southern  speech  of  which 
the  Italian  presents  the  feminine  side.  The  people  of  both  countries  exhibit 
a  similar  excitable,  ardent  quality  in  their  characters  ;  but  the  national  tem- 
perament of  the  Spaniards  is,  perhaps,  somewhat  hardier,  more  virile,  and 
sturdier  in  its  passionateness. 

It  seems  to  be  true  that,  while  the  Greek  spirit  transferred  itself  to  Italy 
in  the  days  of  Augustus,  renewing  its  influence  at  the  period  of  the  Renais- 
sance, and  leaving  upon  people  and  manners  an  impress  never  since  quite 
effaced— an  influence  tending  toward  a  certain  feminine  refinement— the  spirit 
of  Rome  also  transferred  itself  to  the  subject  country,  Hispania,  and  imbued 
that  region  with  the  strong,  austere,  or  wilful  characteristics  of  purely  Latin 
civilization,  which  are  still  traceable  there. 

But,  however  we  may  account  for  the  phenomena,  it  is  likely  that  the 
mingled  contrasts  and  resemblances  of  Italy  and  Spain  will  more  and  more 
induce  travellers  to  visit  the  Iberian  Peninsula.  Italy  has  now  been  so  thor- 
oughly depicted  in  all  its  larger  phases,  from  the  foreigner's  point  of  view, 
that  investigation  must  hereafter  chiefly  be  concerned  with  the  study  of  special 
and  local  features.  Spain,  on  the  other  hand,  offers  itself  to  the  general  ob- 
server and  to  the  tourist  as  a  field  scarcely  more  explored  than  Italy  was  forty 
or  fifty  years  ago;  and  the  evidence  is  abundant  that  the  current  of  travel  is 
setting  vigorously  in  this  direction.  With  the  extension  of  a  railroad  system 
and  the  incursion  of  sight-seeing  strangers  in  larger  number,  we  must  of  course 
expect  that  many  of  the  most  interesting  peculiarities  of  the  people  will  un- 
dergo modification  and  at  length  disappear.  This,  however,  cannot  be  helped  ; 
and  the  following  chapters,  at  the  same  time  that  they  may  encourage  and  aid 
those  who  are  destined  to  bring  about  such  changes,  may  also  serve  to  arrest 
and  preserve  for  future  reference  the  actual  appearance  of  Spain  to-day. 


Vlii  PREFACE. 

Much  might  be  written,  with  the  certainty  of  an  eager  audience,  concerning 
the  present  political  condition  of  the  country,  by  any  one  who  had  had  op- 
portunities for  examining  it  ;  ami  Mr.  John  Hay,  a  few  years  ago,  gave  some 
glimpses  of  it  in  his  charming  volume,  "  Castilian  Days."  My  own  brief  so- 
journ afforded  no  adequate  opportunity  for  such  observation.  But  it  may  be 
not  inadmissible  to  record  here  one  of  the  casual  remarks  which  came  to  my 
notice  in  this  connection.  On  a  Mediterranean  steamer  I  met  with  an  exceed- 
ingly bright  and  healthy  man  of  the  middle  class,  fairly  well  educated — one  of 
those  specimens  of  solid,  temperate,  active  manhood  fortunately  very  common 
in  Spain,  on  whom  the  future  of  the  country  really  depends — and,  noticing 
from  my  lame  speech  that  I  was  not  a  native,  he  asked  me,  guardedly,  if  I  was 
an  Englishman. 

"  No,"  I  said ;  "  I  am  an  American  of  the  North,  of  the  United  States." 
His  manner  changed  at  once  ;  he  thawed :  more  than  that,  his  face  lighted 
with  hope,  as  if  he  had  found  a  powerful  friend,  and  he  gazed  at  me  with  a 
certain    delighted  awe,  attributing  to  my  humble  person  a  glory  for  which  I 
was  in  no  way  responsible.     "You  are  a  republican,  then!"  he  exclaimed. 
"  Yes." 

He  gave  me  another  long,  silent  look,  and  then  confessed  that  he,  too,  was 
a  firm  believer  in  republicanism. 

••  Are  there  many  Spaniards  now  of  that  party?"  I  inquired. 
His  reply  showed  that  he  appreciated  the  difficulties  of  the  national  prob- 
lem.    "  Party!"  he  cried.     "  Listen  :  in  Spain  there  is  a  separate  political  party 
for  every  man."     After  a  slight  pause  he  added,  bitterly,  "  Sometimes,  two!" 

It  may  still  be  said  with  a  good  deal  of  accuracy,  though  not  of  course  with 
the  literalness  and  the  sweeping  application  that  Paul  de  Saint  Victor  gave 
the  words,  in  speaking  of  the  French  Charles  IP's  reign,  that  "Spain  no  more 
changes  than  the  arid  zone  that  encircles  a  volcano.  Kings  pass,  dynasties 
are  renewed,  events  succeed  each  other,  but  the  foundation  remains  immobile, 
and  Philip  II.  still  rules." 

I  have  not  attempted  to  review  political  matters  ;  and  neither  have  I  tried 
to  give  an  exhaustive  account  of  the  country  in  any  other  respect.  The  pict- 
ures which  I  have  given  I  have  endeavored  to  make  vivid  and  faithful ;  and, 
if  I  have  succeeded,  they  will  present  the  essential  characteristics  of  Spain. 
What  has  thus  been  the  object  of  the  text  has  certainly  been  attained  in  the 
drawings  by  Mr.  Reinhart,  which  supply  much  the  greater  part  of  the  illustra- 
tions in  this  volume.  Made  after  sketches  from  life,  which  were  prepared  with 
unflagging  zeal,  and  often  under  great  difficulties,  they  frequently  tell  more 
than  language  can  convey.  Their  graphic  touch,  their  variety  and  humor,  their 
technical  merit,  give  them  the  best  of  recommendations;  but  a  word  of  distinct 
recognition  is  due  here  to  the  artist  for  the  fidelity  and  spirit  with  which  he 
has  reproduced  so  many  scenes  peculiar  to  the  country. 

It  is  hoped  that  the  concluding  chapter  of  "Hints  to  Travellers"  will 
prove  useful,  as  supplying  certain  information  not  always  accessible  in  guide- 
books, and  also  as  condensing  the  practical  particulars  of  the  subject  in  a  con- 
venient form. 

The  Wayside,  Concord,  April  i,  1SS3. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

FROM  BURGOS   TO   THE  GATE  OF  THE  SUN i 

THE  LOST  CITY 34 

CORDOVAN  PILGRIMS 70 

ANDALUSIA  AND   THE  ALHAMBRA 103 

MEDITERRANEAN  PORTS  AND  GARDENS 152 

HINTS  TO   TRAVELLERS 186 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

A   MANDURRA   SOLO       ....    Frontispiece 

Initial  Letter i 

Two  Assassins  in   Long  Cloaks  ...     2 

The  Night-watch 4 

Lancing  Boys 6 

The  Arch  of  St.  Mary 8 

Peasants  in  the  Market-place.     .     .11 

In  the  Mirador L3- 

Landscape  between  Burgos  and  Ma- 
drid     J7 

The  Plaza  Mayor 21 

Water-dealer 23 

Old  Artillery  Park 24 

The  Escoriai 25 

On  the  Road  to  the  Bull-eight  .     .  27 

Plan  of  the  Bull-ring 2S 

A  Street  Scene      32 

Tail-piece 33 

Initial  Letter 34 

Entrance  to  Toledo     35 

The  Narrow  Way 36 

Spanish    Peasant   (from   a    Drawing    by 

William   M.  Chase) 37 

Singing  Girl 44 

Cloister  of  St.  John  of  the  Kings  .  42 

A  Bit  of  Character 43 

Spanish  Soldiers  Playing  Dominos     .  44 

A  Narrow  Street 45 

Woman  with  Bundle 4° 


PAGE 

The  Serenaders 47 

A  Plentiful  Supply  of  Plates  ...  50 
The  Toilet— A  Sunday  Scene    .     .     .51 

A  Toledo   Priest 53 

Toledo  Servitors  at  the  Fountain  .  55 

A  Professional  Beggar 57 

A  Group  of  Mendicants 5S 

A  Patio  in  Toledo 59 

The  Home  of  "Solitude"     ....  61 
"Men  and  Boys  Slumber  Out-of-doors 

EVEN    IN   THE    HOT   St'N  " 67 

A  Strange  Funeral  6S 

Tail-piece 69 

Initial   Letter 70 

Whetstone 71 

Coffee  at  Castillejo 72 

Primitive  Thrashing 74 

While  the  Women  are  at  Mass    .     .  75 
Water-stand  in  Cordova  .     . .    .     .     .77 

The  Gay  Coster-mongers  of  Andalusia  79 

The  Mezquita So 

Relic  Peddlers .  81 

The  Garden  of  the  Alcazar    .     .     .  83 

Priest  and  Purveyor S5, 

Flowers,  for  the  Market      85 

Travellers  to  Cordova     .     .     .     .     .87 

"Arre,  Burr-r-rico  !"     .     ......     .  Sg. 

The  Fruit  of  the  Desierta  ....  94 

Memento  Mori  - 97 


XI 1 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Difficult  for  Foreigners    .    .     .    .  ioi 

The  Jasmine  Girl ioi 

Initial  Letter 103 

Main   Entrance  to  the  Cathedral, 
Sevilla    (from    a    Photograph   by    J. 

Laurent  iV  Co.,  Madrid) 105 

The   Giralda   Tower   (from   a   Photo- 
graph by  J.  Laurent  &  Co.,  Madrid)  ,   107 
Tin:  "Underground"  Mail  ..     .     .    ,  109 
A  Street  Corner     ..     .     .     .     .     .     .115 

Figaro 11S 

'"Stone  Walls  do  not  a  Prison  Make"  121 

In  "The  Serpent" 123 

"All  the  Day  I  am  Happy"   .     .     .   127 

Granada  Undertaker 130 

The  Moorish  Gate,  Seyilla      .     .     .131 

A  Water-carrier 133 

Bit  of  Arch  in  a  Court  of  the  Al- 
HAMBRA    (from     a    Photograph    by    J. 
Laurent  &  Co.,  Madrid)     .      .♦  .      .      .137 
The  Toilet  Tower  (from  a  Photograph 
by  J.  Laurent  &  Co.,  Madrid)      .     .      .139 


PAGE 

Boudoir  of  Lindaraxa 141 

Gypsies 150 

Initial  Letter 152 

Gypsy  Dance 154 

A  Spanish   Monk 15S 

Transportation  of  Pottery      .     .     .  160 

Garlic  Vender 161 

Diving  for  Coppers 164 

A  Modern  Sancho  Panza     ....  167 

Street  Barber      168 

Bibles  versus  Melons 169 

Customs  Officers 171 

Post  Inn,  Alicante 172 

Alicante  Fri  it-seller 173 

Method  of  Irrigation  near  Valencia  175 

Church  of  Santa  Catalina,  Valencia  176 

A  Valencia  Cab 17S 

Barcelona  Fishermen 1S0 

Tail-piece 185 

Initial  Letter 1S6 

St.  John  at  Burgos — Cherubs  in  Ad- 
oration   210 


Spanish  Vistas. 


FROM  BURGOS   TO    THE   GATE   OF   THE  SUN. 

I. 

E  took  our  places,  for  the  per- 
formance was  about  to  begin. 
The  scene  represented  a  street 
in  Burgos,  the  long-dead  capital 
of  old  Castile.     Time  :  night. 

Ancient  houses  on  either  side 
the  stage  narrow  back  to  an 
archway  in  the  centre,  opening 
through  to  a  pillared  walk  and 
a  dimly  moonlit  space  beyond. 
Muffled  figures  occasionally  pass 
the  aperture. 

Suddenly  enters  Don  Ramiro— or  Alvar  Nunez,  I  really  don't  know 
which— and  advances  toward  the  front.  To  our  surprise  he  does  not 
open  the  play  with  a  set  speech  or  any  explanation,  but  continues  to 
advance  until  he  disappears  somewhere  under  our  private  box,  as  if  he 
were  going  from  this  street  of  the  play  into  some  other  adjoining  street, 
just  as  in  actual  life.  A  singular  freak  of  realism  !  He  is  closely  pur- 
sued, however,  by  two  assassins  in  long  cloaks,  who,  like  all  the  other 
figures  we  have  seen,  move  noiselessly  in  soft  shoes  or  canvas  sandals. 
Presently  a  shriek  resounds  from  the  quarter  toward  which  Don  Ramiro 
betook  himself.  Have  they  succeeded  in  catching  him,  and  is  that  the 
sound  of  his  mortal  agony?  We  have  just  concluded  that  this  is  the 
meaning  of  the  clamor,  when,  after  a  second  or  two,  the  shriek  resolves 
itself  into  laughter.  Then  we  begin  to  recall  that  we  didn't  pay  any- 
thing  on  entering  ;  and,  as  we  glance  up  toward  the  folded  curtain  above 


SI'. WISH    VISTAS. 


rWO    ASSASSINS   IN    LONG   CLOAKS. 


the  scene,  discover  that  its  place  is  occupied  by  the  starry  sky.  The 
houses,  too,  have  a  singularly  solid  look,  and  do  not  appear  to  be  paint- 
ed.    While  all  this  has  been  dawning  upon  us,  we  become  conscious 


FROM  BURGOS  TO  THE  GATE  OF  THE  SUN. 

that  the  mixed  sound  of  agony  or  mirth  just  heard  was  merely  the  sig- 
nal of  amusement  caused  to  certain  wandering  Spaniards  by  some  con- 
vulsingly  funny  episode  ;  and  the  next  moment  their  party  comes  upon 
the  scene  at  about  the  point  where  the  foot-lights  ought  to  be.  They 
exchange  a  good -night;  some  go  off,  and  others  thunder  at  sundry 
doors  with  ancient  knockers,  awaking  mediaeval  echoes  in  the  dingy 
thoroughfares,  without  causing  any  great  surprise  to  the  neighborhood. 
In  truth,  we  had  simply  been  looking  from  the  window  of  an  inn  at 
which  we  had  just  arrived  ;  but  everything  had  grouped  itself  in  such 
a  way  that  it  was  hard  to  comprehend  that  we  were  not  at  the  theatre. 
That  day  we  had  been  hurled  over  the  Pyrenees,  and  landed  in  the  dark 
at  our  first  Peninsular  station  ;  then,  facing  a  crowd  of  fierce,  uncouth 
faces  at  the  depot  door,  we  had  somehow  got  conveyed  to  the  Inn  of 
the  North  through  narrow,  cavernous  streets,  brightened  only  by  the 
feeble  light  of  a  few  lost  lanterns,  and  so  found  ourselves  staring  out 
upon  our  first  picturesque  night  in  Spain.  The  street  or  plazuela  below 
us,  though  now  deserted,  went  on  conducting  itself  in  a  most  melodra- 
matic manner.  Big  white  curtains  hung  in  front  of  the  iron  balconies, 
flapping  voluminously,  or  were  drawn  back  to  admit  the  cool  night  air. 
Crickets  chirped  loudly  from  hidden  crevices  of  masonry,  and  a  well- 
contrived  bat  sailed  blindly  over  the  roofs  in  the  penumbral  air,  through 
which  the  moon  was  slowly  rising.  Lights  went  in  and  out ;  some  one 
was  seen  cooking  a  late  supper  in  one  dwelling;  windows  were  opened 
and  shut,  and  a  general  appearance  of  haunting  ghosts  was  kept  up. 
Now  and  then  a  woman  came  to  the  balcony  and  chatted  with  unseen 
neighbors  across  the  way  about  the  festival  of  the  morrow.  By-and-by 
one  side  of  the  street  blew  its  lamps  out  and  prepared  for  bed  ;  but  the 
wakeful  side  insisted  on  talking  to  the  sleepy  one  for  some  time  longer, 
until  warned  by  the  cry  of  the  night-watch  that  midnight  had  come. 
Anything  more  desolate  and  peculiar  than  this  cry  I  have  never  heard. 
It  was  a  long-drawn,  melancholy  sounding  of  the  hour,  with  a  final 
"All's  well !"  terminating  in  a  minor  cadence  which  seemed  to  drop  the 
voice  back  at  once  into  the  Middle  Ages.  This  same  chant  may  have 
resounded  from  the  days  of  Lain  Calvo  and  the  old  judges  of  Castile 
unaltered,  and  for  a  time  it  made  me  fancy  that  the  little  Gothic  town 
had  returned  to  its  musty  youth.  We  were  walled  into  a  sleepy  feudal 
stronghold  once  more,  and  perhaps  at  that  very  moment  the  Cid  was 
celebrating  his  nuptials  with  Ximena,  daughter  of  the  count  he  had 
murdered  for  an  insult,  in  the  old  ruined  citadel  up  there  on  the  hill, 
above  the  cathedral  spires.     But  the  watchman  came  and  went,  and  the 


SPANISH    VISTAS. 


THE    NIGHT-WATCH. 


present  resumed  its  sway.     He  passed  with  slow  step,  in  a  big  cloak 
and  queer  cap,  carrying  a  long  bladed  staff,  and  a  lantern  which  cast 


FROM  BURGOS  TO  THE  GATE  OF  THE  SUN.  5 

swaying  squares  of  light  around  his  feet ;  silent  as  a  black  ghost,  and 
seeming  to  have  been  called  into  life  only  with  the  lighting  of  his  lamp- 
wick.  But,  after  he  had  disappeared,  the  lonely  quaver  of  his  cry  re- 
turned to  us  from  farther  and  farther  away,  penetrating  into  the  com- 
fortless apartment  to  which  we  now  retired  for  sleep. 

The  Inn  of  the  North  was  dirty  and  unkempt ;  a  frightful  odor  from 
the  donkey-stable  and  other  sources  streamed  up  into  our  window  be- 
tween shutters  heavy  as  church  doors  ;  and  the  descant  of  the  watch, 
relieved  by  violent  cock-crows,  disturbed  us  all  night.  Nevertheless,  we 
awoke  with  a  good  deal  of  eagerness  when  the  alert  young  woman  with 
dark  pink  cheeks  and  snapping  eyes  who  served  us  came  to  the  door 
with  chocolate  and  bread,  water  and  aziicarillos,  betimes  next  morning. 
It  was  the  festival  of  Corpus  Christi ;  but  although  every  one  was  going 
to  see  the  procession,  no  one  could  tell  us  anything  about  it.  Unless 
he  be  extraordinarily  shrewd,  a  foreigner  can  hardly  help  arriving  in 
Spain  on  some  kind  of  a  feast-day.  When  the  people  cannot  get  up 
a  whole  holiday,  they  will  have  a  fractional  one.  You  go  about  the 
streets  cheerfully,  thinking  you  will  buy  something  at  leisure  in  the  af- 
ternoon ;  but  when  you  approach  the  shop  commerce  has  vanished,  and 
is  out  taking  a  walk,  or  drinking  barley-water  in  honor  of  some  obscure 
saint.  You  engage  a  guide  and  carriage  to  visit  some  public  building, 
and  both  guide  and  carriage  are  silent  as  to  the  religious  character  of 
the  day  until  you  arrive  and  find  the  place  shut,  when  full  price,  or 
at  least  half,  is  confidently  demanded.  Church  feasts  are  a  matter  of 
course,  but  you  are  expected  to  know  about  them,  and  questions  are 
considered  out  of  place.  In  this  case  we  had  kept  Corpus  Christi  in 
mind,  and  as  Burgos  is  a  small  place,  the  "  function  "  could  not  by  any 
possibility  escape  us. 

The  garrison  turned  out,  and  military  music  played  in  the  proces- 
sion, but  otherwise  it  was  a  quaint  reproduction  of  the  antique.  The 
quiet  streets,  innocent  of  traffic,  were  filled  with  peasants  whose  gar- 
ments, odoriferous  with  age  and  dirt,  made  a  dazzle  of  color,  especially 
the  bright  yellow  flannel  skirts  of  the  women,  and  the  gay  handker- 
chief which  men  and  women  alike  employ  here.  Sometimes  it  is  worn 
around  the  shoulders,  sometimes  around  the  head,  and  sometimes  both  : 
but  everywhere  and  always  handkerchiefs  are  brought  into  play  as  es- 
sentials. From  almost  every  balcony,  too,  hung  bedquilts,  or  sheets 
scalloped  with  red  and  blue,  in  emulation  of  the  tapestries  and  banners 
that  once  graced  these  occasions.  Amid  a  tumultuous  tumbling  of  bells 
up  amid  the  carven  gray  stone-work  of  the  cathedral,  the  candles  and 


6 


SPANISH    VISTAS. 


images  and  tonsured  priests,  clad  in  resplendent  copes,  moved  forth, 
attended  by  civil  functionaries  in  swallow-tailed  coats  or  old  crimson 
robes  of  the  twelfth  century.  But  the  prettiest  sight,  and  a  much  more 
striking  cue  than  the  gilt  effigies  of  St.  Lawrence  and  St.  Stephen  and 
the  rest,  under  toy  canopies  and  wreathed  with  false  flowers,  was  that 
of  two  little  boys,  nude  except  for  the  snowy  lamb-skins  they  wore,'who 
personated  Christ  and  St.  John.  The  Christ  rode  on  a  lamb,  and  kept 
his  head  very  steady  under  a  big  curled  wig  made  after  the  old  masters. 
We  saw  him  afterward  in  his  father's  arms,  still  holding  his  hands  pray- 
erfully, as  he  had  been  drilled,  with  a  look  of  sweet,  childish  awe  in  his 
lace. 

When  the  procession  was  about  to  return,  we  were  amazed,  in  gaz- 
ing at   the  small  street   from  which  it  should   emerge,  to  behold  eight 


DANCING    BOYS. 


huge  figures,  looking  half  as  high  as  the  houses,  in  long  robes,  and  with 
placidly  unreal  expressions  on  their  gigantic  faces,  advancing  with  that 
peculiar  unconscious  gait  due  to  human  leg-power  when  concealed  un- 
der papier-mache  monsters.     It  took  but  a  glance,  as  they  filed  out  and 


FROM  BURGOS  TO  THE  GATE  OF  THE  SUN.  7 

aligned  themselves  on  the  small  sunny  square,  to  recognize  in  them  the 
Kings  of  the  Earth,  come  in  person  to  do  homage  before  the  Christ. 
One  bore  a  crown  and  ermine  as  insignia  of  the  Castilian  line  ;  others 
were  Moors ;  and  even  China  was  represented.  After  them  danced  a 
dozen  boys,  in  pink  tunics  and  bell-crowned  hats  of  drab  felt  quaintly 
beribboned,  throwing  themselves  about  fantastically,  with  snapping  fin- 
gers and  castanets.  They  formed  in  two  ranks,  just  under  the  grand 
shadowy  entrance  arch,  to  receive  the  pageant.  A  drummer  and  two 
flautistas  in  festive  attire  accompanied  them  ;  and  whenever  a  mon- 
strance or  holy  image  was  borne  past,  the  flutes  mingled  with  the  drum 
eccentric  bagpipe  discords,  at  which  the  boys  broke  into  a  prancing  jig 
and  rattled  their  castanets  to  express  their  devout  joy.  Two  other 
men  in  harlequin  dress,  wearing  tall,  pointed  hats,  stood  on  the  edge  of 
the  eager  crowd,  and  belabored  those  who  pressed  too  close  with  horse- 
hair switches  attached  by  a  long  cord  to  slender  sticks.  This  part  of 
the  performance  was  conducted  with  great  energy  and  seriousness,  and 
seemed  to  be  received  with  due  reverence  by  the  thick  heads  which  got 
hit.  A  more  heathenish  rite  than  this  jig  at  the  sanctuary  gate  could 
hardly  be  imagined. 

"Are  these  things  possible,  and  is  this  the  nineteenth  century?"  ex- 
claimed my  friend  and  companion,  who,  however,  had  been  guilty  of  an 
indigestion  that  day. 

I  confess  that  for  myself  I  enjoyed  the  dance,  and  could  not  help 
being  struck  by  the  contrast  of  this  boyish  gayety  with  the  heavy  gor- 
geousness  of  the  priests  and  the  immobile  frown  of  the  sculptured  fig- 
ures on  the  massive  ogee  arch."  Then  when  the  Host  was  carried  by 
in  the  custodia,  and  the  motley  crowd  kneeled  and  bared  their  heads, 
we  sunk  to  the  pavement  with  them,  our  knees  being  assisted  possibly 
by  the  statement  we  had  heard  that,  a  few  years  since,  blows  or  knives 
were  the  prompt  reward  of  non-conformity.  Afterward,  when  secular 
amusements  ensued,  our  boys  went  about,  stopping  now  and  then  in 
open  places  to  execute  strange  dances,  with  hoops  and  ribbons  and 
wooden  swords,  for  the  general  enjoyment.  A  gleeful  sight  they  made 
against  backgrounds  of  old  archways,  or  perhaps  the  mighty  Arch  of 

*  The  dancing  boys  still  officiate  at  Seville,  also,  in  Holy-week,  where  they  leap  merrily 
before  the  high  altar,  and  do  not  even  take  off  their  hats  to  the  Host.  The  story  runs  that, 
years  ago,  a  visiting  bishop  from  Rome  found  fault  with  this  as  being  unorthodox,  and  threat- 
ened to  put  a  stop  to  it.  He  complained  to  the  Pope,  and  a  lenient  order  issued  from  the  Vat- 
ican that  the  observance  should  be  discontinued  when  the  boys'  clothes  should  be  worn  out. 
Up  to  the  present  clay,  curiously  enough,  the  clothes  have  not  been  worn  out. 


SPANISH    VISTAS. 


THE    ARCH    OF    ST.    MARY. 


Santa  Maria,  one  of  the  local  glories,  peopled  with  statues  of  ancient 
counts  and  knights  and  rulers. 

No  Spanish  town  is  without  its  paseo — its  public  promenade  ;  and 


FROM  BURGOS  TO  THE  GATE  OF  THE  SUN.  9 

in  Burgos  this  is  supplied  by  The  Spur — a  broad  esplanade  skirting  the 
shrunken  river,  with  borders  of  chubby  shade  trees  and  shrubbery.  On 
Corpus  Christi  the  citizens  also  turned  out  in  the  arcades  of  the  Main 
Plaza.  Here,  and  later  in  the  dusty  dusk  of  The  Spur,  they  crowded 
and  chatted,  in  accordance  with  native  ideas  of  enjoyment ;  and  except 
that  their  mantillas  and  shoulder-veils*  made  a  difference,  the  seiloras 
and  senoritas  might  have  passed  for  Americans,  so  delicate  were  their 
features,  so  trim  their  daintily -attired  figures,  though  perhaps  they 
hadn't  a  coin  in  their  pockets.  The  men  had  the  universal  Iberian 
habit  of  carrying  their  light  overcoats  folded  over  the  left  shoulder; 
but  their  quick  nervous  expression  and  spare  faces  would  have  been 
quite  in  place  on  Wall  Street.  Spanish  ladies  are  allowed  far  more 
liberty  than  the  French  or  English  in  public  ;  but  though  they  walked 
without  male  escort,  they  showed  remarkable  skill  in  avoiding  any  di- 
rect look  at  men  from  their  own  lustrous  eyes.  During  the  accredited 
hours  of  the  paseo,  however,  gallants  and  friends  are  suffered  to  walk 
close  behind  them — so  close  that  the  entire  procession  often  comes  to 
a  stand-still — and  to  whisper  complimentary  speeches  into  their  ears  ; 
no  one,  not  even  relatives  of  the  damsels,  resenting  this  freedom. 

At  Las  Huelgas,  a  famous  convent  near  the  town,  much  resorted 
to  by  nuns  of  aristocratic  family  (even  the  Empress  Eugenie  it  was 
thought  would  retire  thither  after  her  son's  death),  the  fete  was  re- 
newed next  day;  and  it  was  here  that  we  saw  beggars  in  perfection. 
A  huge  stork's  nest  was  perched  high  on  one  end  of  the  chapel,  as  on 
many  churches  of  Spain.  Bombs  were  fired  above  the  crowd  from  the 
high  square  tower  that  rose  into  the  hot  air  not  far  from  the  inner 
shrine  ;  and  in  the  chapel  below  the  nuns  were  at  their  devotions,  caged 
behind  heavy  iron  lattices  that  barely  disclosed  their  picturesque  head- 
dress. Meanwhile  peasants  and  burghers  wandered  aimlessly  about, 
looking  at  pictures,  relics,  and  inscriptions  in  an  outer  arcade ;  after 
which  the  holiday  of  the  people  began.  Holiday  here  means  either 
walking  or  sleeping.  In  a  sultry,  dusty  little  square  by  the  convent, 
covered  with  trees,  the  people  went  to  sleep,  or  sat  talking,  and  occa- 
sionally eating  or  drinking  with  much  frugality.  The  first  object  that 
had  greeted  us  by  daylight  in  Burgos  was  a  marvellous  mendicant  clad 
in  an  immense  cloak,  one  mass  of  patches — in  fact,  a  monument  of  in- 
digence— carrying  on  his  head  a  mangy  fur  cap,  with  a  wallet  at  his 
waist  to  contain  alms.     The  beggars  assembled  at  Las  Huelgas  were 


*  These  last  are  called  tocas,  and  are  rapidly  superseding  the  long  mantilla. 


Ll  SPANISH    VIS  IAS. 

quite  as  bad,  except  that  the}-  mostly  had  the  good  taste  to  remain 
asleep.  In  any  attitude,  face  down  or  up,  on  stone  benches  or  on  the 
grass,  they  dozed  at  a  moment's  notice,  reposing  piously.  One  sat  for 
a  long  time  torpid  near  us,  but  finally  mustered  energy  to  come  and 
entreat  us.  lie  received  a  copper,  whereupon  he  kissed  the  coin,  mur- 
mured a  blessing,  and  again  retreated  to  his  shadow.  Another,  having 
acquired  something  from  some  other  source,  halted  near  us  to  find  his 
pocket.  He  searched  long  among  his  rags,  and  plunged  fiercely  into  a 
big  cavity  which  exposed  his  dirty  linen  ;  but  this  proved  to  be  only  a 
tear  in  his  trousers,  and  he  was  at  last  obliged  to  tie  his  treasure  to  a 
voluminous  string  around  his  waist,  letting  it  hang  down  thence  into 
some  interior  vacancy  of  rags. 

It  may  not  be  generally  known  that  beggars  are  licensed  in  Spain. 
Veteran  soldiers,  instead  of  receiving  a  pension,  are  generously  endowed 
with  official  permission  to  seek  charity;  the  Church  gives  doles  to  the 
poor,  and  citizens  consider  it  a  virtue  to  relieve  the  miserable  objects 
who  petition  for  pence  at  every  turn.  As  we  came  from  Las  Huelgas 
we  saw  the  maimed  and  blind  and  certain  more  robust  paupers  creep- 
ing up  to  the  door  of  a  church,  where  priests  were  giving  out  food.  A 
little  farther  on  an  emaciated  crone  at  a  bridge-head,  with  eyes  shut 
fast  in  sleep,  lifted  her  hand  mechanically  and  repeated  her  formula. 
We  were  convinced  that,  since  she  could  do  this  in  her  slumbers,  she 
must  have  been  satisfied  with  merely  dreaming  of  that  charity  we  did 
not  bestow. 

It  was  a  favorable  season  for  the  beggars,  and  many  of  them  sunned 
their  bodies,  warped  and  scarred  by  hereditary  disease,  on  the  cathedral 
steps.  But  professional  enterprise  with  them  was  constantly  hindered 
by  the  tendency  to  nap.  One  old  fellow  I  saw  who,  feeling  a  brother- 
hood between  himself  and  the  broken-nosed  statues,  had  mounted  into 
a  beautiful  niche  there  and  coiled  himself  in  sleep,  first  hauling  his 
wooden  leg  up  after  him  like  a  drawbridge. 

Meanwhile  the  peasants  kept  on  swarming  into  the  town,  decorating 
it  with  their  blue  and  red  and  yellow  kerchiefs  and  kirtles,  as  with  a 
mass  of  small  moving  banners.  The  men  wore  vivid  sashes,  leather 
leggings,  and  laced  sandals.  It  was  partly  for  enjoyment  they  came, 
and  partly  to  sell  produce.  All  alike  were  to  be  met  with  at  noon, 
squatting  down  in  any  sheltered  coigne  of  street  or  square,  every  group 
with  a  bowl  in  its  midst  containing  the  common  dinner.  There  were 
also  little  eating-houses,  in  which  they  regaled  themselves  on  bread  and 
sardines,  with  a  special   cupful   of  oil  thrown  in,  or  on  salt   meat.     A 


FROM  BURGOS  TO  THE  GATE  OF  THE  SUN. 


11 


lively  trade  in  various  small  articles  was  carried  on  in  the  Main  Plaza  ; 
among  them  loaves  of  tasteless  white  bread,  hard  as  tiles,  and  delicious 
cherries,  recalling"  the  farms  of  New  York.  Another  product  was  offer- 
ed, the  presence  of  which  in  large  quantity  was  like  a  sarcasm.  This 
was  Castile  soap.  It  must  have  taken  an  immense  effort  of  imagination 
on  the  part  of  these  people  to  think  of  manufacturing  an  article  for 
which  they  have  so  little  use.  I  am  bound  to  add  that  I  did  not  see 
an   ounce   of  it  sold  ;    and   I   have   my  suspicions  that   the   business    is 


PEASANTS    IN   THE    MARKET-PLACE. 


merely  a  traditional  one — the  same  big  cheese-like  chunks  being  proba- 
bly brought  out  at  every  fair  and  fete,  as  a  time-honored  symbol  of 
Castilian  prosperity.  But,  after  all,  so  devout  a  community  must  be 
convinced  that  it  possesses  godliness  ;  and  having  that,  what  do  they 
need  of  the  proximate  virtue  ?  This  is  the  region  where  the  inhabi- 
tants refer  to  themselves  as  "old  and  rancid  Castilians;"  and  the  ex- 
pression is  appropriate. 

The  most  intolerable  odor  pervaded  the  whole  place.     It  was  a  sin- 
gular mixture,  arising  from   the  trustful  local  habit  of  allowing  every 


ll>  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

kind  of  garbage  and  ordure  to  disperse  itself  without  drainage,  and 
complicated  with  fumes  of  oil,  garlic,  general  mustiness,  and  a  whiff 
or  two  of  old  incense.  The  potency  of  olive-oil,  especially  when  some- 
what rank,  none  can  know  who  have  not  been  in  Spain.  That  first 
steak-  -how  tempting  it  looked  among  its  potatoes,  but  how  abomina- 
bly it  tasted  !  We  never  approached  meat  with  the  same  courage  after- 
ward, until  our  senses  were  subdued  to  the  level  of  fried  oil.  Combine 
this  with  the  odor  of  corruption,  and  you  have  the  insinuating  quality 
which  we  soon  noticed  even  in  the  wine  —  perhaps  from  the  custom 
of  transporting  it  in  badly  dressed  pig-skins,  which  impart  an  animal 
flavor.  This  astonishing  local  atmosphere  saluted  us  everywhere;  it 
was  in  our  food  and  drink;  we  breathed  it  and  dreamed  of  it.  Yet  the 
Hurgalese  flourished  in  calm  unconsciousness  thereof.  The  splendidly 
blooming  peasant  women  showed  their  perfect  teeth  at  us;  and  the 
men,  in  broad-brimmed,  pointed  caps  and  embroidered  jackets,  whose 
feet  were  brown  and  earthy  as  tree-roots,  laughed  outright,  strong  in 
the  knowledge  of  their  traditionary  soap,  at  our  ignorant  foreign  clothes 
and  over-washed  hands!  Among  the  humbler  class  were  some  who 
were  prepared  to  sell  labor — an  article  not  much  in  demand — and  they 
were  even  more  calmly  squalid  than  the  beggars.  They  sat  in  ranks  on 
the  curb-stones  of  the  plaza,  a  matchless  array  of  tatters  ;  and  if  they 
could  have  been  conveyed  without  alteration  to  Paris  or  New  York, 
there  would  have  been  sharp  competition  for  them  between  the  artists 
and  paper-makers. 

So  my  companion,  the  artist,  assured  me  —  whom,  by-the-way,  in 
order  to  give  him  local  color,  I  had  rechristened  Velazquez.  But  as 
he  shrank  from  the  large  implication  of  this  name,  I  softened  him 
down  to  Velveteen. 

We  had  been  twenty-four  hours  in  Burgos  before  we  saw  a  carriage, 
excepting  only  the  hotel  coach,  which  stood  most  of  the  time  without 
horses  in  front  of  the  door,  and  was  used  by  the  porter  as  a  private 
gambling  den  and  loafing  place  for  himself  and  his  friends.  When 
wheels  did  roll  along  the  pavements  they  awoke  a  roar  as  of  musketry. 
Perhaps  the  most  important  event  which  took  place  during  our  stay 
— it  was  certainly  regarded  with  a  more  feverish  interest  by  the  in- 
habitants than  the  Corpus  Christi  ceremonies — was  the  bold  act  of 
our  landlady,  who  went  out  to  drive  in  a  barouche,  while  her  less  dar- 
ing spouse  hung  out  of  the  window  weakly  staring  at  her.  The  house- 
fronts  were  filled  with  well-dressed  feminine  heads,  witnessing  the  de- 
parture ;  a  grave  old  gentleman  opposite  left  his  book  and  glared  out 


FROM  BURGOS  TO  THE  GATE  OF  THE  SUN. 


13 


intently.    When  the  wheels 
could  no  longer  even   be 
heard,  he  turned   to  gaze 
wistfully  in  the  opposite 
direction,  dimly  hoping 
that    life    might    vouch- 
safe him  a  carriage. 

Although,  as    I   have 
said,  women  avoid  meet- 
ing  male    glances    when 
on    the    sidewalk,  they 
enjoy    full     license     to 
stand  at  their  high  win- 
dows, which    are    called     , 
miradores,  or  "lookers," 
and  contemplate  with 
entire      freedom      all 
things     or    persons 
that  pass  ;  which,  in 
view    of    the    com-    >\ 
plete  listlessness  of 
their  lives,  is  a  fortu- 
nate dispensation. 
Existence  in  Bur- 
gos is  essentially  life 
from     the      window 
point    of    view.       It 
proceeds    idly,  and    as 
a    sort    of    accidental 
spectacle.      Yet   there 
is  for  strangers  a  dull 
fascination    in    wander 
ing  about  the  narrow, 
silent  streets,  and  con- 
templating     ancient 
buildings,  the  chiselled 
ornaments  and  armorial 
bearings  of  which  recall 
the  wealth   and   nobili- 
ty that  once  inhabited 


^ 


I.N    THE    MIRADOR. 


14  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

them  during  the  great  days  of  the  town.  Where  have  all  the  domi- 
nant families  gone?  Are  they  keeping  store,  or  tending  the  railroad 
station?  Their  descendants  are  sometimes  only  too  happy  if  they 
can  get  some  petty  government  office  at  five  hundred  dollars  a  year. 
1  strolled  one  afternoon  into  the  Calle  de  la  Calera,  and  through  a 
shabby  archway  penetrated  to  a  stately  old  ruined  court,  around 
which  ran  an  inscription  in  stone,  declaring  this  palace  to  have  been 
reared  by  an  abbot  of  aristocratic  line  a  century  or  two  since.  It  is 
used  now  as  an  oil  factory.  A  pretty  girl  was  looking  out  over  a 
flower-pot  in  an  upper  window,  and,  as  I  strayed  up  the  noble  stair- 
case, I  met  a  sad -looking  gentleman  coming  clown,  who  I  afterward 
learned  was  a  widower,  formerly  resident  in  Paris,  but  now  returned 
with  his  daughter  to  this  strange  domicile  in  his  native  place.  Some 
of  the  lower  rooms,  again,  were  devoted  to  plebeians  and  donkeys. 

The  humble  ass,  by-the-way,  begins  to  thrust  himself  meekly  upon 
you  as  soon  as  you  set  foot  in  the  Peninsula,  and  you  must  look  sharp 
if  you  wish  to  keep  out  of  his  way.  His  cheap  labor  has  ruined  and 
driven  out  the  haughtier  equine  stock  of  Arabia  that  once  pawed  this 
devoted  soil.  Even  the  Cid,  however,  did  not  boast  a  barb  of  the 
desert  in  the  earlier  days  of  his  prowess;  for  when  King  Alfonso  bade 
him  quit  the  land,  "then  the  Cid  clapped  spurs  to  the  mule  upon 
which  he  rode,  and  vaulted  into  a  piece  of  ground  which  was  his  own 
inheritance,  and  answered,  '  Sire,  I  am  not  in  your  land,  but  in  my 
own.'  "  This  little  incident  occurred  near  Burgos,  and  the  drowsy 
city  still  keeps  some  dim  memory  of  that  great  Warrior  Lord  the  Cid 
Campeador,  Rodrigo  cle  Bivar,  whose  quaint  story,  full  of  hardihood, 
robbery,  and  cruelty,  gallant  deeds  and  grim  pathos,  trails  along  the 
track  of  his  adventures  through  half  of  Spain.  But  there  is  a  curious 
cheapness  and  indifference  in  the  memorials  of  him  preserved.  In 
the  Town -hall,  for  the  sum  of  ten  cents,  you  are  admitted  to  view 
the  modern  walnut  receptacle  wherein  all  that  is  left  of  him  is  eco- 
nomically stored.  Those  puissant  bones,  which  went  through  so  many 
hard  fights  against  the  Moors,  are  seen  lying  here,  dusty  and  loose,  with 
those  of  Ximena,  under  the  glass  cover.  Among  them  reposes  a  port- 
ly corked  bottle,  in  which  minor  fragments  of  the  warrior  lord  were 
placed  after  the  moving  of  his  remains  from  the  Convent  of  San  Pedro 
in  chains,  where  for  many  years  he  occupied  a  more  seemly  tomb. 
Imagine  George  Washington,  partially  bottled  and  wholly  disjointed, 
on  exhibition  under  glass!  The  Spaniards,  in  no  way  disconcerted 
by  the  incongruity,  have  graven  on  the  brass  plate  of  the  case  a  high- 


FROM    BURGOS    TO    THE    GATE    OF    THE    SUN.  15 

sounding  inscription  ;  but  a  tribute  as  genuine  and  not  less  valuable, 
though  humbler,  was  the  big,  spruce-looking  modern  wagon  I  saw  in 
the  market-place  one  day,  driven  by  an  energetic  farmer,  and  bearing 
on  its  side  the  title  El  Cid. 

One  would  look  to  see  the  conqueror's  dust  richly  inurned  within 
the  cathedral — a  noble  outgrowth  of  the  thirteenth  century,  enriched 
by  accretions  of  later  work  until  its  whitish  stone  and  wrought  mar- 
ble connect  the  Early  Pointed  style  with  that  of  the  Renaissance  in 
its    flower.      But   perhaps    this    temple  has    enough  without    the    Cid. 
Strangely  placed   on   the  side   of  a  hill,  with   houses  attached  to  one 
corner,  as  if  it  had  sprung  from  the  homes  and  hearts  of  the  people, 
it  seems  to  hold  down  the  swelling  ground  with  its   massive  weight ; 
yet  the  spires,  through  the  open-work  of  which  the  stars  may  be  seen 
at   night,  rise   with   such   lightness    you   would    think  the    heavy  bells 
might  make  them   tremble  and  fall.     I  passed  an  hour  of  peace  and 
fresh  air  above  the  fetid  streets,  looking  down   from   the   citadel   hill 
on  these  pinnacles,  while  around  and  below  them  lay  the  town  —  an 
irregular  mass  of  gray  and  mauve  pierced  with  deep  shadows — in  the 
midst  of  bare,  rolling  uplands.     Before   the  fair  high   altar  hangs  the 
victorious  banner  of  Ferdinand  VII.,  recalling  to  the  people  the  great 
battle  of  Tolosa   Plains.     And   when   one   sees   peasants — rough  spots 
of  color  in  the  sombre  choir— studying  the  dark,  fruit-like  wood-carv- 
ings through  which  the  Bible  story  wreathes  itself  in  panel  after  panel, 
one  feels  the  teaching  power  of  these  old  churches  for  the  unlettered. 
In  one  of  the  corner  chapels  appears  another  less  favorable  phase  of 
such   teaching,  in   the   shape  of  a  miracle-working  Christ,  amid  deep 
shadows  and    dim    lantern -light,  stretched   on    the    cross,  and    draped 
with  a  satin  crinoline.      This   doubtful    reverence   of  putting  a   short 
skirt  on  the  figure  of  the  Saviour,  often  practiced  in  Spain,  may  per- 
haps mark  an  influence  unconsciously  received  from  the  Moorish  dis- 
like  for  nudity.      The   cathedral   bells  were   continually   clanging   the 
summons  to  mass  or  vespers,  and   their  loud  voices,  though    cracked 
and  inharmonious,  seemed  still  to  assert  the  supremacy  of  ecclesiasti- 
cal  power.     But   while  a   priest   occasionally   darkened   the   sidewalks, 
many  others,  on  account  of  the  growing  prejudice  against  them,  went 
about  in  frock-coats  and  ordinary  tall  hats.     And  under  all  its  crown- 
ing beauty    the    old    minster,  motionless    in    the    centre    of   the    stag- 
nant town — its  chief  entrance  walled  up,  and  a  notice  painted  on  its 
Late  Roman  facade  warning  boys  not  to  play  ball  against  the  tempt- 
ing masonry — wore  the  look  of  some  neglected  and  half-blind  thing, 


[6  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

once    glorious,  symbol    of  a    power   abruptly   stayed    in   its  prodigious 

career. 

Meanwhile  the  daily  history  of  Burgos  went  on  its  wonted  way, 
sleepy  but  picturesque— a  sort  of  illuminated  prose.  Women  chaffered 
in  the  blue-tiled  fish-market ;  the  bourgeoisie  patronized  the  sweetmeat 
shops,  of  which  there  were  ten  on  the  limited  chief  square;  the  tam- 
bourine-maker varied  this  ornamental  industry  with  the  construction  of 
the  more  practical  sieve;  a  peasant  passed  with  a  bundle  of  purple- 
flowering  vetches  on  his  head  for  fodder,  and  another  drove  six  milch 
goats  through  the  streets,  seeking  a  purchaser.  To  this  last  one  the 
proprietor  of  the  principal  book-store  came  running  out  to  see  if  he 
could  strike  a  bargain.  One  morning  I  met  an  uncouth  countryman 
and  his  stout  wife  on  the  red-tiled  landing  of  the  inn  stairs  (they  bowed 
and  courtesied  to  me)  with  chickens  and  eggs  for  sale.  In  this  simple 
manner  our  hotel  was  supplied.  All  the  bread  was  got,  a  few  pieces  at 
a  time,  from  a  small  bakery  across  the  plazuela,  in  a  dark  cellar  just 
under  the  niche  of  a  neglected  stone  saint— a  new  arrival  causing  our 
maid  to  run  hurriedly  thither  for  a  couple  of  rolls;  and  the  water  also 
came  from  some  neighbor's  well  in  earthen  jars.  The  barber  even  exer- 
cises his  primitive  function. in  Burgos:  he  is  called  a  "bleeder,"  and 
announces  on  his  shop  sign  that  "teeth  and  molars"  are  extracted 
there.  Democratic  and  provincial  the  atmosphere  was,  and  not  un- 
pleasantly so;  yet  during  our  stay  Italian  opera  from  Madrid  was  per- 
forming in  the  theatre,  and  large  yellow  posters  promised  "  Bulls  in 
Burgos  "  at  an  early  date. 

II. 

To  pass  from  this  ancient  city  to  Madrid  is  to  experience  one  of 
those  astonishing  contrasts  in  which  the  country  abounds. 

We  dropped  asleep  in  the  rough,  time-worn  regions  of  Old  Castile, 
and  in  the  morning  found  ourselves  amid  the  glare  and  bustle  of 
reconstructed  Spain,  as  it  displays  itself  on  the  great  square  called  the 
Gate  of  the  Sun — a  spot  with  no  hint  of  poetry  about  it  other  than  its 
name.  Madrid  adopts  largely  the  Parisian  style  of  street  architecture, 
and  has  in  portions  a  resemblance  to  Boston.  The  sense  of  remoteness 
aroused  in  the  north  here  suddenly  fades,  though  the  traits  that  mark 
a  foreign  land  soon  re-assemble  and  take  shape  in  a  new  framework. 
Perhaps,  too,  our  first  rather  flat  impression  was  due  to  an  exhausting 
night  journey  and  some  accompanying  incidents. 


FROM  BURGOS  TO  THE  GATE  OF  THE  SUN.  IT 

"  The  Spaniards  arc  a  nation  of  robbers !"  a  cheerful  French  gentle- 
man of  Bordeaux  had  told  us;*  and  he  threw  out  warnings  of  certain 
little  coin  tricks  in  which  they  were  adepts.  When  two  Civil  Guards, 
armed  with  swords  and  guns,  inspected  our  train  at  the  frontier,  we 
recalled  his  statement.  These  guards  persistently  popped  up  at  every 
succeeding  station.  No  matter  how  fast  the  train  went,  there  they 
were  always  waiting;  always  two  of  them,  always  with  the  same  mus- 
tached  faces,  and  the  same  white  havelocks  fluttering  on  their  bunchy 
cocked  hats  of  the  French  Revolution,  and  making  their  swarthy  cheeks 
and  black  eyes  fiercer  by  contrast.    In  fact,  they  were  obviously  the  same 


LANDSCAPE    BETWEEN    BURGOS    AND    MADRID. 


men.  Every  time  they  marched  up  and  down  the  platform,  scanning 
the  cars  in  a  determined  manner,  and  scowling  at  our  compartment 
in  a  way  that  fully  persuaded  us  some  one  must  be  guilty.  Indeed, 
before  long  we  became  convinced  that  we  ourselves  were  suspicious ; 
but  it  would  have  been  a  relief  if  they  had  taken  us  in  hand  at  once. 
Why  should  they  go  on  glaring  at  us  and  swinging  their  guns,  as  if  it 
were  a  good  deal  easier  to  shoot  us  than  not,  unless  it  was  that  we  were 
too  rich  a  "  find"  to  be  disposed  of  immediately — squandered,  as  it  were? 
Perhaps  the  torture  of  suspense  suited  the  enormity  of  our  case,  but  it 
was  certainly  cruel.  There  was  some  satisfaction,  however,  in  finding 
that  when  we  left  the  depot  they  allowed  us  a  restricted  liberty,  and  kept 
out  of  our  way.  If  it  had  been  otherwise,  I  don't  know  what  they  would 
have  done  to  us  at  Burgos,  for  it  was  there  that  the  landlady  forced  upon 
us  a  gold  piece  that  would  not  pass,  in  exchange  for  a  good  one  which 
we  had  given  her.  This  very  simple  device  was  one  of  which  the  French 
gentleman  had  told  us.     But  we  were  too  confiding.     The  money  to  pay 

*  This  characterization,  our  own  experience  led  us  to  conclude,  was  exceedingly  unjust. 


IS  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

the  bill  was  sent  away  by  a  servant,  and  once  out  of  sight  was  easily 
replaced  with  inferior  coin.  Disturbed  by  this  episode,  we  went  to  our 
train,  which  started  with  the  watchman's  first  hail  at  eleven,  and  stum- 
hied  hastily  into  an  empty  compartment,  which  we  soon  converted  into 
a  sleeping-carriage  by  making  our  bundles  pillows,  drawing  curtains,  and 
pulling  the  silk  screen  over  the  lamp.  Our  nap  was  broken  only  by  a 
halt  at  the  next  station.  There  was  a  long,  drowsy  pause,  during  which 
the  train  seemed  to  be  pretending  it  hadn't  been  asleep.  It  was  nearly 
time  to  go  on,  when  feminine  voices  drew  near  our  carriage;  the  door 
was  thrown  open,  and  two  ladies  quickly  entered.  There  was  no  time 
for  retreat;  the  usual  fish-horn  and  dinner-bell  accompaniment  an- 
nounced our  departure,  and  the  wheels  moved.  Then  it  was  that  one 
of  the  new-comers  uttered  a  half  scream,  and  we  saw  that  she  was  a 
nun  ! 

Had  it  been  a  cooler  night  our  blood  might  have  frozen  ;  but  as  it 
failed  us,  we  did  what  we  could  by  feeling  greatly  embarrassed.  The 
nun  and  her  travelling  companion  had  been  speaking  Spanish  as  they 
approached,  and  we  tried  in  that  language  to  impress  on  them  our 
harmless  devotion  to  their  convenience. 

"  But  he  said  it  was  reserved  for  ladies,"  murmured  the  sister,  in 
good  English. 

The  terrible  truth  was  now  clear.  My  eye  caught,  at  the  same 
instant,  a  card  in  the  window  which  proved  beyond  question  that  we 
had  got  into  the  carriage  for  senoras. 

The  result  of  this  adventure  was  that  we  found  the  nun  to  be  an 
English  Catholic,  employed  in  teaching  at  a  religious  establishment, 
and  her  friend  another  Englishwoman  protecting  her  on  her  journey. 
Pleasant  conversation  ensued,  and  we  had  almost  forgotten  that  we 
were  criminals,  when  the  speed  of  the  engine  slackened  again,  and 
the  thought  of  the  Civil  Guards  returned  to  haunt  us.  We  did  not 
dare  remain,  yet  we  were  sure  that  our  military  pursuers  would  con- 
front us  again  on  the  platform.  There  indeed  they  were,  when  we 
tumbled  out  into  the  obscurity,  with  their  white-hooded  heads  loom- 
ing above  their  muskets  in  startling  disconnectedness.  Telling  Velaz- 
quez, with  all  the  firmness  I  possessed,  to  bare  his  breast  to  the  aveng- 
ing sword,  I  hastened  to  get  into  a  coupe,  preferring  to  die  comfortably. 
He,  however,  ignominiously  followed  me.  It  is  true,  we  were  not  mo- 
lested ;  but  the  shock  of  that  narrow  escape  kept  us  wakeful. 

Not  even  our  own  prairies,  I  think,  could  present  so  dreary  and 
monotonous  an  outlook  as  the  wide,  endless,  treeless   Castilian  plains 


FROM  BURGOS  TO  THE  GATE  OF  THE  SUN.  1!) 

while  morning  slowly  felt  its  way  across  them.  Brown  and  cold  they 
were,  skirted  by  white  roads,  and  all  shorn  of  their  barley  crops, 
though  it  was  but  middle  June.  Now  and  then  a  village  was  seen 
huddled  against  some  low  slope — a  church  lifting  its  tall,  square  cam- 
panario  above  the  humble  roofs  against  the  pearling  sky.  Interior 
Spain  is  a  desolate  land,  but  the  Church  thrives  there  and  draws  its 
tax  from  the  poverty-stricken  inhabitants — a  crowned  beggar  ruling 
over  beggars. 

If  the  first  man  were  now  to  be  created  from  the  clay  of  this  region, 
he  would  doubtless  turn  out  the  very  type  of  a  lean  hidalgo.  The 
human  product  of  such  soil  must  perforce  be  meagre  and  melancholy; 
and  the  pensiveness  which  we  see  in  most  Spanish  faces  seems  a  re- 
flection of  the  landscape  which  surrounds  them. 

The  Madrilenos  offer  not  a  flat,  but  rather  an  extremely  round 
contradiction  to  this  general  and  accepted  idea  of  the  national  appear- 
ance. Slenderness  is  the  exception  with  them.  Their  city  is  a  forced 
flower  in  the  midst  of  mountain  lands,  and  the  men  themselves  rejoice 
in  a  rotund  and  puffy  look  of  success,  which  also  partakes  of  the  hot- 
house character.  They  are  people  of  leisure,  and,  after  their  manner, 
of  pleasure.  How  they  swarm  in  the  cafes  in  the  Gate  of  the  Sun — 
where  they  keep  up  the  Moorish  custom  of  calling  waiters  by  two 
claps  of  the  hands — or  on  the  one  great  thoroughfare,  Calle  de  Alcala, 
or  in  the  bull-ring  of  a  Sunday!  They  are  never  at  rest,  yet  never 
altogether  active.  They  never  sleep,  or,  if  they  do,  others  take  their 
places  in  the  public  resorts.  The  clamor  of  the  streets,  and  even  the 
snarling  cry  of  the  news-venders — "La  Correspondencia"  or  "El  Demo- 
crata-a" — is  kept  up  until  the  small  hours;  and  at  five  or  six  the  rest- 
less stir  begins  again  with  the  silver  tinkling  of  fleet  mule-bells.  There 
are  no  night-howling  watchmen  in  Madrid  ;  but  the  custom  of  street- 
hawking  is  rampant  in  Spain  ;  and  here,  in  addition  to  the  newsmen, 
we  have  the  wail  of  the  water-criers,  ministering  to  an  unquenchable 
popular  thirst,  the  lottery-ticket  sellers,  the  wax-match  peddlers,  and 
a  dozen  others.  The  favorite  bird  of  the  country  is  a  kind  of  lark 
called  alondra,  much  hung  in  cages  outside  the  windows,  whence  they 
utter — with  that  monotonous  recurrence  which  seems  a  fixed  principle 
of  all  things  Spanish — a  hard,  piercing  triple  note  impossible  to  ignore. 
This  loud,  persistent  "twit,  twit -twit,"  resembling  at  a  distance  the 
click  of  castanets,  begins  with  daybreak,  and  gives  a  most  discourag- 
ing notion  of  the  Spanish  musical  ear. 

But   the   watchmen   are   merciful.      They  are    called,  as    elsewhere, 


20  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

serenos,  which  may  mean  cither  "quiet,"  or  "night -dews,"  but  their 
function  in  Madrid  is  peculiar.  Early  in  the  evening  they  come  out 
by  squads,  with  staves  of  office,  and  at  their  girdles  bright  lanterns  and 
an  immense  bunch  of  keys.  These  are  the  night-keys  of  all  the  houses 
on  each  man's  beat,  the  residents  not  being  allowed  to  have  any. 
When  a  person  returns  home  late  —  and  who  does  not,  in  Madrid — 
he  is  obliged  to  find  his  sereno,  and  if  that  officer  is  not  in  sight,  calls 
him  by  name—"  Frascuelo,"  or  "  Pepino."  Whereupon  Frascuelo,  or 
Pepino,  or  Santiago,  if  he  hears,  will  come  along  and  unlock  the  door. 
This  curious  system  should  at  least  encourage  good  habits;  for,  unless 
a  man  be  sober,  his  watchman  may  have  unpleasant  tales  to  tell  of 
him. 

The  feline  race  being  too  often  homeless,  and  having  a  proverbial 
taste  for  nocturnal  wanderings,  the  average  male  citizen  of  the  capital 
feelingly  nicknames  himself  a  "  Madrid  cat."  This  shows  a  frankness 
of  self-characterization,  to  say  the  least,  unusual.  Of  course  there  is 
home  life,  and  there  is  family  affection,  in  Madrid,  but  the  stranger 
naturally  does  not  see  a  great  deal  of  these;  and  then  it  may  be 
doubted  whether  they  really  exist  to  the  same  extent  as  in  most  other 
civilized  capitals.  It  becomes  wearisome  to  make  sallies  upon  the 
town,  and  day  after  day  find  so  much  of  the  population  trying  to  di- 
vert itself,  or  killing  time  in  the  cafes  and  clubs.  The  feeling  deepens 
•that  they  resort  to  these  for  want  of  a  sufficiently  close  interest  in 
their  homes.  More  than  that,  they  do  not  seem  really  to  be  amused. 
Even  their  language  fails  to  express  the  amusement  idea;  the  most 
that  anything  can  be  for  them,  in  the  vernacular,  is  "  entertaining." 
Still  the  choice  of  light  diversion  is  varied  enough.  Opera  flourishes 
in  winter;  in  spring  and  summer  the  bull -fight;  theatres  are  always 
in  blast;  cocking- mains  are  kept  up.  Hitherto  gambling  has  been 
another  favorite  pastime  until  checked  by  the  authorities.  Not  con- 
tent with  all  this,  the  Madrilenos  seek  in  lottery  shops  that  excitement 
which  Americans  derive  from  drinking-saloons.  The  brightly  lighted 
lottery  agency  occurs  as  frequently  as  that  other  indication  of  disease, 
the  apothecary's  window,  or  the  stock-market  "ticker,"  in  American 
cities.  People  of  all  classes  hover  about  them  both  by  day  and  by 
night.  Posters  confront  you  with  announcements  of  the  Child  Jesus 
Lottery,  the  lottery  to  aid  the  Asylum  of  Our  Lady  of  the  Assumption, 
or  the  National,  which  is  drawn  thrice  a  month,  with  a  chief  prize  of 
thirty-two  thousand  dollars,  and  some  four  hundred  other  premiums. 
There  are  many  small   drawings  besides   constantly  going  on :   not    a 


FROM  BURGOS  TO  THE  GATE  OF  THE  SUN. 


2L 


day  passes,  in  fact,  without  your  being  solicited  by  wandering  dealers 
in  these  alluring  chances  at  least  half  a  dozen  times. 

Altogether,  looking  from  my  balcony  upon  the  characteristic  crowd 
in  the  great  square,  leading  this  life  so  busy  yet  so  apathetic,  as  if  in  a 
slow  fever,  Madrid  struck  me  as  only  one  more  great  human  ant-hill, 
where  the  ants  were  trying  to  believe  themselves  in  Paris.  The  Parisian 
resemblance,  however,  is  confined  to  strips  through  the  middle  and  on  the 
edges  of  the  city,  and  as  soon  as  one's  steps  are  bent  away  from  those, 
the  narrow  ways  and  older  architecture  of  Spain  re-appear.     Only  a  few 


IHE    PLAZA    MAYOR. 


rods  from  the  Puerta  del  Sol  lies  the  Plaza  Mayor,  which  once  enjoyed 
all  the  honors  of  bull-fights  and  heretic  burnings — occasions  on  which 
householders  were  obliged  by  their  leases  to  give  up  all  the  front  rooms 
and  balconies  to  be  used  as  boxes  for  the  audience.  From  the  Plaza 
Mayor  again  an  arch  leads  into  Toledo  Street — old  meandering  mart  full 
of  mantles  and  sashes,  blankets  and  guitars,  flannel  dyed  in  the  national 
colors  of  red  and  yellow,  basket-work  and  wood -work,  including  the 
carved  sticks  known  as  molinillos  (little  mills),  with  which  chocolate  is 


22  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

mixed  by  a  dexterous  spinning  motion.  The  donkey  feels  himself  at 
home  once  more  in  these  narrow  thoroughfares;  the  evil  sewage  smell, 
which  oozes  through  even  the  most  pretentious  edifices  in  the  new 
quarters,  diffuses  itself  again  in  full  vigor,  and  the  cafes  become  dingy 
and  unconventional.  On  the  Alcala,  or  San  Geronimo,  the  carefully- 
dressed  men  sip  beer  and  cordials,  or  possibly  indulge  in  sparkling 
sherry — a  new  and  expensive  wine  like  dry  champagne  ;  but  here  the 
rougher  element  is  satisfied  with  aguardiente  (the  liquor  distilled  from 
anise-seed),  and  quite  as  often  confines  itself  to  water.  The  lower  or- 
ders are  temperate.  Peasants  and  porters  and  petty  traders  will  sit 
down  contentedly  for  a  whole  evening  to  a  glass  of  water  in  which  is 
dissolved  a  long  meringue  (called  azucarillo,  literally  "  sugarette  "),  or 
to  a  snow  lemonade.  Another  esteemed  cooling  beverage  is  the  hor- 
chata  de  chufas,  a  kind  of  cream  made  from  pounded  cypress  root  and 
then  half  frozen.  The  height  of  luxury  is  to  order  with  this,  at  an 
added  cost  of  some  two  cents,  a  few  tubular  wafers,  fancifully  named 
barqiiillos  (or  little  boats),  through  which  the  semi-liquid  may  be  sucked. 
This  barquillo  is  considered  so  desirable  that  boys  cany  it  on  the  street 
in  large  metal  cylinders,  the  top  of  which  is  a  disk  inscribed  with  num- 
bers. You  pay  a  fee,  and  he  revolves  on  the  disk  a  pivotal  needle,  the 
number  at  which  it  stops  deciding  how  many  wafers  fall  to  your  lot. 
In  this  way  the  excruciating  pleasure  of  barqiiillos  to  eat  is  combined 
with  the  national  delight  in  gaming. 

European  costume  has  fallen  on  the  Madrid  people  like  a  pall,  blot- 
ting out  picturesqueness ;  but  peasants  of  all  provinces  are  still  seen, 
and  now  and  then  a  turbaned  figure  from  Barbary  moves  across  the 
street.  Nor  is  the  fascinating  mantilla  quite  extinct  among  women, 
in  spite  of  their  more  than  Parisian  grace  and  splendor  of  modern  rob- 
ing. There  are  humble  old  women  squatted  on  the  sidewalk  at  street 
corners,  who  sell  water  and  liquors  and  shrub  from  bottles  kept  in  a 
singular  little  stand  with  brass  knobs  like  an  exaggerated  pair  of  cas- 
ters ;  and  when  one  sees  the  varied  types  of  peasant,  soldier,  citizen, 
or  priest,  with  perhaps  a  veiled  woman  of  the  middle  class,  gathered 
around  one  of  these,  the  Spanish  quality  of  the  town  re-asserts  itself 
distinctly.  So  it  does,  too,  when  a  carriage  containing  the  princesses 
of  the  royal  household  rattles  down  the  Prado  Park,  drawn  by  mules  in 
barbaric  red-tasscllcd  harness,  and  preceded  by  a  courier  who  wears  a 
sort  of  gold-braided  nightcap. 

There  is  no  cathedral  at  Madrid,  but  the  churches,  smeared  as  usual 
with  gold  and  stucco  and  paint  in  tasteless  extravagance,  are  numerous 


FROM  BURGOS  TO  THE  GATE  OF  THE  SIX. 


23 


enough;  and  on  many  a  balcony  I  saw  withered  straw-like  plumes,  long 
as  a  man,  hung  up  in  commemoration  of  the  last  Palm-Sunday.  The 
morning  papers  have  a  "religious  bulletin"  in  the  amusement  column, 
giving  the  saints  and  services  of  the  day  ;  besides  which  special  masses 
for  the  souls  of  departed  capitalists  are  constantly  announced,  with  a 
request  that  friends  shall  attend.     These  paid   rites   doubtless   offer  a 


WATER-DEALER. 


pleasant  exception  to  the  routine  of  commonplace  church-going.  Thus, 
while  the  men  are  absorbed  by  their  cafes  and  politics,  their  countless 
cigarettes  and  lottery  tickets,  with  a  minimum  of  business  and  a  maxi- 
mum of  dominoes,  the  women  fill  up  their  time  with  matins  and  ves- 


24 


SPANISH    VISTAS. 


pers,  confessions  and  intrigues.  It  would  be  merely  repeating  the  frank 
assertion  of  the  Spanish  men  themselves  to  say  that  feminine  morals 
here  are  in  a  lamentable  state;  but  at  least  appearances  are  always 
carefully  guarded,  and  if  judged  by  externals  only,  Madrid  is  far  more 
virtuous  than  London  or  Paris.  As  for  local  society,  it  exists  so  much 
on  appearances  that  the  substance  suffers.  It  is  true,  the  ladies  are 
beautiful  and  of  noble  stature;   and  their  costumes,  governed  by  the 


H.l)    ARTILLERY    PARK. 


FROM    BURGOS   TO   THE   GATE   OF   THE   SUN. 


25 


THE    KSCURIAL. 


happiest  taste,  surpass  in  luxury 
those  seen  in  public  in  almost  any 
other  city.  The  cavaliers  are,  with- 
out exception,  the  best-dressed  gen- 
tlemen in  the  world  ;  and  the  mass  of  sumptuous  equipages,  with  pol- 
ished grooms  and  surpassingly  fine  horses,  which  crowds  the  broad 
Castilian  Fountain  drive,  or  the  Park  road  on  the  east  of  the  Buen 
Retiro  gardens,  during  fashionable  hours,  is  amazing.  Great  wealth  is 
gathered  in  the  hands  of  a  few  nobles,  who  often  draw  heavy  salaries 
from  government  for  long-obsolete  services;  but  the  most  of  this 
costuming  and  grooming  is  attained  by  semi-starvation  at  home.  By 
consequence,  dinners  and  dancing-parties  are  rarely  given  even  in  the 
season,  and  royalty  itself  provides  no  more  than  a  couple  of  balls,  with 
two  or  three  state  dinners,  a  year. 

To  be  sure,  no  capital  is  better  provided  with  sundry  of  the  higher 
means  to  cultivation,  as  its  Royal  Armory,  its  Archaeological  Museum, 
and  its  glorious  Picture-gallery — in  some  respects  the  noblest  of  Eu- 
rope— remind  one.  Moreover,  in  the  neighboring  Escorial,  that  dark 
jewel  in  the  head  of  Philip  II.,  travellers  find  a  rich  monument  of  art, 
albeit  to  many  eyes  unseen  inscriptions  perhaps  record  there  more  than 
enough  of  Spain's  misfortunes.  In  the  Madrid  gallery  the  stately, 
severe,  and  robust  royal  portraits  by  Velazquez,  or  his  magnificently 
healthy  "  Drunkards,"  reveal  in  their  way,  as  do  the  Virgins  of  Murillo, 
floating  divinely  in  translucent  air,  that  deep  and  deathless  power  of 


26  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

Spanish  temperament  and  genius  over  which  slumber  has  reigned  so 
long.  The  pictures  of  Ribera,  hanging  together,  are  like  loose  pages 
torn  from  Spanish  ecclesiastical  history  and  legend :  a  collection  of 
monks,  ascetics,  martyrs  —  scenes  of  torture  depicted  with  relentless 
and  savage  vigor.  Goya,  again,  scarcely  known  out  of  Spain,  left  at 
the  beginning  of  this  century  portraits  "of  wonderful  vitality  and  finish, 
fresh  glimpses  of  popular  life,  and  wild  figure  compositions  marked  by 
the  fierce,  half  insane  energy  of  a  Latinized  William  Blake.  His  imagi- 
nation and  manner  were  both  original.  Though  falling  short,  like  all 
other  Spanish  painters,  in  ideality,  he  had  that  faculty  of  fertile  im- 
provisation so  refreshing  in  Murillo's  naturalistic  "  Madonna  of  the 
Birdling,"  or  in  his  "  St.  Elizabeth,"  and  "  Roman  Patrician's  Dream," 
at  the  Academy  of  Fine  Arts.  But  it  is  not  with  these  past  splendors, 
still  full  of  hopes  for  new  futures,  that  the  Castilian  gentlemen  and 
ladies  of  our  varnished  period  concern  themselves.  The  opera,  the 
circus,  and  the  Corrida  de  Toros — the  irrepressible  bull-fight — are  to 
them  of  far  more  consequence. 

In  every  crowd  and  cafe  you  see  the  tall,  shapely,  dark-faced,  silent 
men,  with  a  cool,  professionally  murderous  look  like  that  of  our  border 
desperadoes,  whose  enormously  wide  black  hats,  short  jackets,  tight 
trousers,  and  pigtails  of  braided  hair  proclaim  them  chubs,  or  members 
of  the  noble  ring.  Intrepid,  with  muscles  of  steel,  and  finely  formed, 
they  are  very  illiterate  :  we  saw  one  of  them  gently  taking  his  brandy 
at  the  Cafe  de  Paris  after  a  hard  combat,  while  his  friend  read  from  an 
evening  paper  a  report  of  the  games  in  which  he  had  just  fought — the 
man's  own  education  not  enabling  him  to  decipher  print.  But  the  higher 
class  of  these  professionals  are  the  idols,  the  demi-gods,  of  the  people. 
Songs  are  made  about  them,  their  deeds  are  painted  on  fans,  and  popu- 
lar chromos  illustrate  their  loves  and  woes  ;  people  crowd  around  to  see 
them  in  hotels  or  on  the  street  as  if  they  were  heroes  or  star  tragedians. 
Pet  dogs  are  named  for  the  well-known  ones ;  and  it  was  even  rumored 
that  one  of  the  chief  swordsmen  had  secured  the  affections  of  a  patri- 
cian lady,  and  would  have  married  her  but  for  the  interference  of  her 
friends.  Certain  it  is  that  a  whole  class  of  young  bucks  of  the  lower 
order — "'Arrys"  is  the  British  term— get  themselves  up  in  the  closest 
allowable  imitation  of  bull-fighters,  down  to  the  tuft  of  hair  left  grow- 
ing in  front  of  the  ear.  The  espadas  or  matadorcs  (killers),  who  give 
the  mortal  blow,  hire  each  one  his  cuadrilla  —  a  corps  of  assistants, 
including  picadorcs,  banderillcros,  and  punterillo.  For  every  fight  they 
receive   five  hundred   dollars,  and   sometimes   they   lay   up   large   fort- 


FROM  BURGOS  TO  THE  GATE  OF  THE  SUN. 


27 


unes.  To  see  the  sport  well  from  a  seat  in  the  shade,  one  mast  pay 
well.  Tickets  are  monopolized  by  speculators,  who,  no  less  than  the 
fio-hters,  have  their  "  ring,"  and  gore  buyers  as  the  bull  does  horses.  We 
gave  two  dollars  apiece  for  places.  The  route  to  the  Place  of  Bulls  is 
lined  for  a  mile  with  omnibuses,  tartanas,  broken-down  diligences,  and 
wheezy  cabs,  to  convey  intending  spectators  to  the  fight  on  Sunday 
afternoons.  A  stream  of  pedestrians  file  in  the  same  direction,  and 
the  showy  turnouts  of  the  rich  add  dignity  to  what  soon  becomes  a 
wild  rush  for  the  scene  of  action.  The  mule-bells  ring  like  a  rain  of 
metal,  whips  crack,  the  drivers  shout  wildly,  and  at  full  gallop  we  dash 
by  windows  full  of  on-lookers,  by  the  foaming  fountains  of  the  Prado, 
and  up  the  road  to  the  grim 
Colosseum  of  stone  and  brick, 
in  the  midst  of  scorched  ;r.i<!  \ 

arid  fields,  with  the  faint  peaks 
of  the  snow-capped  Guadar- 
rama  range  seen,  miles  to  the 
north,  through  dazzling  white- 
sunshine. 


ON    THE    ROAD    TO    THE    BULL-FIGHT. 


28 


SPANISH    VISTAS. 


Within  is  the  wide  ring,  sunk  in  a  circular  pit  of  terraced  granite 
crowned  by  galleries.  The  whole  great  round,  peopled  by  at  least  ten 
thousand  beings,  is  divided  exactly  by  the  sun  and  the  shadow — sol y 
sombra;  and  from  our  cool  place  we  look  at  the  vivid  orange  sand  of 
the  half  arena  in  sunlight,  and  the  tiers  of  seats  beyond,  where  swarms 
of  paper  fans  (red,  yellow,  purple,  and  green)  are  wielded  to  shelter  the 


PLAN    OF   THE   BULL-RING. 


eyes  of  those  in  the  cheaper  section,  or  bring  air  to  their  lungs.  No 
connected  account  of  a  bull  tourney  can  impart  the  vividness,  the  rapid 
changes,  the  suspense,  the  skill,  the  picturesqueness,  or  horror  of  the 
actual  thing.  All  occurs  in  rapid  glimpses,  in  fierce,  dramatic,  brilliant, 
and  often  ghastly  pictures,  which  fade  and  re-form  in  new  phases  on  the 
instant.  The  music  is  sounding,  the  fans  are  fluttering,  amateurs  stroll- 
ing between  the  wooden  barriers  of  the  ring  and  the  lowest  seats, 
hatless  men  are  hawking  fruit  and  aguardiente,  when  trumpets  an- 
nounce the  grand  entry.  It  is  a  superb  sight :  the  picadores  with  gor- 
geous jackets  and  long  lances  on  horseback,  in  wide  Mexican  hats,  their 
armor-cased  legs  in  buckskin  trousers ;   the  swordsmen  and  others  on 


FROM   BURGOS    TO   THE   GATE   OF   THE   SUN.  29 

foot,  shining  with  gold  and  silver  embroidery  on  scarlet  and  blue,  bright 
green,  saffron,  or  puce -colored  garments,  carrying  cloaks  of  crimson, 
violet,  and  canary.  At  the  head  is  the  mounted  alguazil  in  ominous 
black,  who  carries  the  key  of  the  bull-gate.  Everything  is  punctual, 
orderly,  ceremonious. 

Then  the  white  handkerchief,  as  signal,  from  the  president  of  the 
games  in  his  box  ;  the  trumpet-blare  again  ;  and  the  bull  rushing  from 
his  lair !  There  is  a  wild  moment  when,  if  he  be  of  good  breed,  he 
launches  himself  impetuous  as  the  ball  from  a  thousand-ton  gun  direct- 
ly upon  his  foes,  and  sweeping  around  half  the  circle,  puts  them  to  flight 
over  the  barrier  or  into  mid-ring,  leaving  a  horse  or  two  felled  in  his 
track.  I  have  seen  one  fierce  Andalusian  bull  within  ten  minutes  kill 
five  horses  while  making  two  circuits  of  the  ring.  The  first  onset 
against  a  horse  is  horrible  to  witness.  The  poor  steed,  usually  lean  and 
decrepit,  is  halted  until  the  bull  will  charge  him,  when  instantly  the 
picador  in  the  saddle  aims  a  well-poised  blow  with  his  lance,  driving  the 
point  into  the  bull's  back  only  about  an  inch,  as  an  irritant.  You  hear 
the  horns  tear  through  the  horse's  hide  ;  you  feel  them  go  through 
yourself.  Ribs  crack  ;  there's  a  clatter  of  hoofs,  harness,  and  the  rider's 
armor;  a  sudden  heave  and  fall — disaster! — and  then  the  bull  rushes 
away  in  pursuit  of  a  yellow  mantle  flourished  to  distract  him. 

The  banderilleros  come,  each  holding  two  ornamental  barbed  sticks, 
which  he  waves  to  attract  the  bull.  At  the  brute's  advance  he  runs  to 
meet  him,  and  in  the  moment  when  the  huge  head  is  lowered  for  a 
lunge,  he  plants  them  deftly,  one  on  each  shoulder,  and  springs  aside. 
Perhaps,  getting  too  near,  he  fails,  and  turns  to  fly;  the  bull  after, 
within  a  few  inches.  He  flees  to  the  barrier,  drops  his  cloak  on  the 
sand,  and  vaults  over;  the  bull  springs  over  too  into  the  narrow  alley; 
whereupon  the  fighter,  being  close  pressed,  leaps  back  into  the  ring 
light  as  a  bird,  but  saved  by  a  mere  hair's-breadth  from  a  tossing  or 
a  trampling  to  death.  The  crowd  follow  every  turn  with  shouts  and 
loud  comments  and  cheers:  "Go,  bad  little  bull!"  "Let  the  picadores 
charge!"  "More  horses!  more  horses!"  "Well  done,  Gallito  !"  "Time 
for  the  death  ! — the  matadores  !"  and  so  on.  Humor  mingles  with  some 
of  their  remarks,  and  there  is  generally  one  volunteer  buffoon  who, 
choosing  a  lull  in  the  combat,  shrieks  out  rude  witticisms  that  bring 
the  laugh  from  a  thousand  throats. 

But  if  the  management  of  the  sport  be  not  to  their  liking,  then  the 
multitude  grow  instantly  stormy :  rising  on  the  benches,  they  bellow 
their  opinions  to  the  president,  whistle,  stamp,  scream,  gesticulate.     It 


30  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

is  the  tumult  of  a  mob,  appeasable  only  by  speedier  bloodshed.  And 
what  bloodshed  they  get  !  A  horse  or  two,  say,  lies  lifeless  and  crum- 
pled on  the  earth  ;  the  others,  with  bandaged  eyes,  and  sides  hideously 
pierced  and  red-splashed,  are  spurred  and  whacked  with  long  sticks  to 
make  them  go.  But  it  is  time  for  the  banderilleros,  and  after  that  for 
the  swordsman.  Me  advances,  glittering,  with  a  proud,  athletic  step, 
the  traditional  chignon  fastened  to  his  pigtail,  and  holding  out  his  bare 
sword,  makes  a  brief  speech  to  the  president :  "  I  go  to  slay  this  bull  for 
the  honor  of  the  people  of  Madrid  and  the  most  excellent  president  of 
this  tourney."  Then  throwing  his  hat  away,  he  proceeds  to  his  task  of 
skill  and  danger.  It  is  here  that  the  chief  gallantry  of  the  sport  begins. 
With  a  scarlet  cloak  in  one  hand  he  attracts  the  bull,  waves  him  to  one 
side  or  the  other,  baffles  him,  re-invites  him — in  fine,  plays  with  and  con- 
trols him  as  if  he  were  a  kitten,  though  always  with  eye  alert  and  often 
in  peril.  At  last,  having  got  him  "  in  position,"  he  lifts  the  blade,  aims, 
and  with  a  forward  spring  plunges  it  to  the  hilt  at  a  point  near  the  top 
of  the  spine.  Perhaps  the  bull  recoils,  reels,  and  dies  with  that  thrust ; 
but  more  often  he  is  infuriated,  and  several  strokes  are  required  to  fin- 
ish him.  Always,  however,  the  blood  gushes  freely,  the  sand  is  stained 
with  it,  and  the  serried  crowd,  intoxicated  by  it,  roar  savagely.  Still, 
the  "  many-headed  beast  "  is  fastidious.  If  the  bull  be  struck  in  such  a 
way  as  to  make  him  spout  his  life  out  at  the  nostrils,  becoming  a  trifle 
too  sanguinary,  marks  of  disapproval  are  freely  bestowed.  One  bull 
done  for,  the  music  recommences,  and  mules  in  showy  trappings  arc 
driven  in.  They  are  harnessed  to  the  carcasses,  and  the  dead  bulks  of 
the  victims  are  hauled  bravely  off  at  a  gallop,  furrowing  the  dirt.  The 
grooms  run  at  topmost  speed,  snapping  their  long  whips;  the  dust  rises 
in  a  cloud,  enveloping  the  strange  cavalcade.  They  disappear  through 
the  gate  flying,  and  you  wake  from  a  dream  of  ancient  Rome  and  her 
barbarous  games  come  true  again.  But  soon  the  trumpets  flourish; 
another  bull  comes;  the  same  finished  science  and  sure  death  ensue, 
varied  by  ever-new  chances  and  escapes,  until  afternoon  wanes,  the  sun 
becomes  shadow,  and  ten  thousand  satisfied  people — mostly  men  in  felt 
sombreros,  with  some  women,  fewer  ladies,  and  a  sprinkling  of  children 
and  babies — throng  homeward. 

What  impresses  is  the  cold  blood  of  the  thing.  People  bring  their 
goat-skins  of  wine,  called  "  little  drunkards,"  and  pass  them  around  to 
friends,  between  bulls ;  others  pop  off  lemonade  bottles,  and  nearly  all 
smoke.  Even  a  combatant  sometimes  lights  a  cigar  while  the  bull  is 
occupied  at  the  other  side  of  the  ring.     During  the  hottest  encounters 


FROM  BURGOS  TO  THE  GATE  OF  THE  SUN.  31 

grooms  come  in  to  strip  the  harness  from  dying  horses  or  stab  an  inca- 
pacitated one;  to  carry  off  baskets  of  entrails,  and  rake  fresh  sand  over 
the  blood -pools,  quite  calmly,  at  the  risk  of  sharp  interruption  from 
the  vagarious  horned  enemy.  In  the  midst  of  a  dangerous  flurry,  while 
performers  are  escaping,  an  orange-vender  in  the  lane  outside  the  bar- 
rier pitches  some  fruit  to  a  buyer  half-way  up  the  gradas,  counting 
aloud,  "One,  two,  three,"  to  twenty-four.  All  are  caught,  and  he  neat- 
ly catches  his  money  in  return.  Afterward,  when  a  bull  leaps  the  bar- 
rier, this  intrepid  merchant  has  to  fly  for  life,  leaving  his  basket  on  the 
ground,  where  the  bewildered  animal  upsets  it,  rolling  the  contents 
everywhere  in  golden  confusion.  Another  time  we  saw  a  horse  and 
rider  lifted  bodily  on  the  horns,  and  so  tossed  that  the  horseman  flew 
out  of  his  saddle,  hurtled  through  the  air  directly  over  the  bull,  and 
landed  solidly  on  his  back,  senseless.  Six  grooms  bore  him  off,  white 
and  rigid.  But  the  populace  never  heeded  him ;  they  were  madly 
cheering  the  bull's  prowess.  A  surgeon,  by-the-way,  always  attends  in 
an  anteroom ;  prayers  are  said  before  the  fight ;  and  a  priest  is  in 
readiness  with  the  consecrated  wafer  to  give  the  last  sacrament  in  case 
of  any  fatal  accident.  The  utter  simple-mindedness  with  which  Span- 
iards regard  the  brutalities  of  the  sport  may  be  judged  from  the  fact 
that  a  bull-fight  was  once  given  to  benefit  the  Society  for  the  Preven- 
tion of  Cruelty  to  Animals  ! 

On  occasion,  the  drawing  of  a  charitable  lottery  is  held  at  the  Cor- 
rida de  Toros,  and  then  there  are  gala  features.  The  Queen  and  various 
high-born  ladies  present  magnificent  rosettes  of  silk  or  satin  and  gold 
and  silver  tinsel,  with  long  streamers,  to  be  attached  by  little  barbs 
to  the  bulls  before  their  entrance,  each  having  his  colors  indicated  in 
this  way ;  and  these  ornaments  are  displayed  in  shop  windows  for  days 
before  the  event.  The  language  of  the  ring  is  another  peculiarity. 
There  are  many  fine  points  of  merit,  distinguished  by  as  many  canting 
terms.  There  is  the  "  pair  regular,"  the  "  relance,"  the  "  cuartos,"  and 
the  darts  are  playfully  termed  "  shuttlecocks  ;"  the  swordsman  deals  in 
"  pinches  "  and  "  thrusts,"  and  so  on — all  of  which  is  recorded  in  press 
reports,  amusing  enough  in  their  airy  and  supercilious  half -literary 
treatment.  These  are  among  the  most  polished  products  of  Spanish 
journalism.  Fines  are  imposed  on  the  performers  for  any  achievement 
not  "  regular  ;"  and,  on  the  other  hand,  good  strokes  are  rewarded  by  the 
public  with  cigars,  or,  as  the  dainty  reporters  say,  they  "  merit  palms." 
The  three  chief  swordsmen  are  Lagartijo,  Frascuelo,  and  Currito ; 
"  Broad  Face,"  "  Little  Fatty,"  and  the  like,  being  lesser  lights.     Fras- 


39 


SPANISH    VISTAS. 


A    STREET    SCENE 


cuelo  is  so  renowned  for  hardihood  that  I  once  saw  him  receive,  in 
obedience  to  popular  will,  the  ear  of  the  bull  he  had  just  slain— a  su- 
preme mark  of  favor."" 

Madrid  is  now  the  head-quarters  of  the  national  game,  as  it  is  of 
everything  else.  It  is  outwardly  flourishing,  it  is  adorned  with  statues, 
its  parks  are  green,  and  its  fountains  spout  gayly.  Nevertheless,  the 
impression  it  makes  is  melancholy.  Beggary  is  importunate  on  its  pub- 
lic ways.     Palaces  and  poverty,  great  wealth  and  wretched  penury,  are 


*  Some  time  before   this  he  had,  by  too   adventurous  play,  received  a  tossing  which  laid 
him  up  for  eight  months,  and  his  death  in  the  ring  has  since  been  reported. 


FROM    BURGOS    TO    THE    GATE    OF     THE    SUN. 


33 


huddled  close  together.  Its  assumption  of  splendor  is  in  startling  con- 
trast with  the  desolate  and  uncared-for  districts  that  surround  it  from 
the  very  edge  of  the  city  outward.  The  natural  result  of  extremes  in 
the  distribution  of  property,  with  a  country  impoverished,  is  public 
bankruptcy:  and  public  bankruptcy  stares  surely  enough  through  the 
city's  gay  mask.  There  is  another  unhappy  result  from  the  undue  con- 
centration of  resources  at  this  artificial  capital.  Madrid  prides  itself  on 
being  the  spot  at  which  all  the  avenues  of  the  land  converge  equally, 
the  exact  centre  of  Spain  being  close  beyond  the  city's  confines,  and 
marked — how  appropriately — by  a  church  !  But  Madrid  is,  notwith- 
standing, a  national  centre  only  in  name.  It  enjoys  a  false  luxury,  while 
too  many  outlying  provinces  sustain  a  starveling  existence.  And,  see- 
ing the  alien,  imitative  manners  adopted  here,  one  feels  sharply  the 
difficult  contrasts  that  exist  between  the  metropolis  and  the  provinces: 
no  hearty  bond  of  national  unity  appears.  We  looked  back  over'  the 
ground  we  had  traversed,  and  thought  of  the  gray  bones  of  Burgos 
cathedral,  lying  like  some  stranded  mammoth  of  another  age,  far  in  the 
north.  Oh,  bells  of  Burgos,  mumbling  in  your  towers,  what  message 
have  you  for  these  sophisticated  ears  ?  And  what  intelligible  response 
does  the  heart  of  the  country  send  back  to  you  ? 

"Come,"  said  I  to  Velveteen.  "  It  is  useless  to  resist  longer.  Let's 
surrender  to  these  two  white-capped  guards  who  have  dogged  us  so, 
and  be  carried  away." 


■   fMXs 


m  aip 


34 


SPANISH   VISTAS. 


THE  LOST  CITY. 
I. 

T    was    of    Spain's    past    and    present   that   we 
were  speaking,  and  "  What,"  I  asked,  "  have  we 
.,.'■       given  her  in  return  for  her  discovery  of  our 
New  World  ?" 

"  The  sleeping-car  and  the 
street     tramway,"   answered 
Velveteen,   with     justifiable 
pride. 

He  was  right ;  for 
we  had  seen  the  first 
on   the  railroad,  and 
the    second    skimming 
the  streets  of  Madrid. 
Still,  the  reward  did 
not  appear  great,  meas- 
ured  by   the   much 
that    Spain's  vent- 
ures   in   the  West- 
ern hemisphere  had 
cost  her,  and   by  the  com- 
parative   desolation    of    her   present. 
|V>  ,l(^N%r     The    devoted    labors    of   Irving  and   Prescott, 
which   Spaniards  warmly  appreciate,  are  more 
in   the  nature  of  an  adequate  return. 

"It  strikes  me,  also,"  I  ventured  to  add,  "  that  we  are  rendering 
a  service  in  kind.  She  discovered  us,  and  now  we  are  discovering  her." 
If  one  reflects  how  some  of  the  once  great  and  powerful  places  of 
the  Peninsula,  such  as  Toledo  and  Cordova,  have  sunk  out  of  sight 
and  perished  to  the  modern  world,  this  fancy  applies  with  some  truth 
to  every  sympathetic  explorer  of  them.     It  had  been  all  very  well  to 


#\VMS^ 


THE    LOST    CITY.  35 

imagine  ourselves  conversant  with  the  country  when  we  were  in  Ma- 
drid, and  even  an  occasional  slip  in  the  language  did  not  disturb  that 
supposition.  When  I  accidentally  asked  the  chamber-maid  to  swallow 
a  cup  of  chocolate  instead  of  "bringing"  it,  owing  to  an  unnecessary 
resemblance  of  two  distinct  words,  and  when  my  comrade,  in  attend- 
ing to  details  of  the  laundry,  was  led  by  an  imperfect  dictionary  to 
describe  one  article  of  wear  as  a  pint 'lira  dc  noche,  or  "night  scene," 
our  confidence  suffered  only  a  momentary  shock.  But,  after  all,  it 
was   not   until   we   reached   Toledo  that  we   really  passed  into  a  kind 


ENTRANCE    TO    TOLEDO. 


of  forgotten  existence,  and  knew  what  it  was  to  be  far  beyond  reach 
of  any  familiar  word. 

With  the  first  plunge  southward  from  the  capital  the  reign  of  ruin 
begins — ruin  and  flies.  The  heat  becomes  intense  ;  the  air  itself  seems 
to  be  cooked  through  and  through  ;  the  flies  rejoice  with  a  malicious 
joy,  and  the  dry  sandy  hills,  bearing  nothing  but  tufts  of  blackened 
weeds,  resemble  large  mounds  of  pepper  and  salt.  Here  and  there  in 
the  valley  is  the  skeleton  of  a  stone  or  brick  farm-house  withering 
away,  and  perhaps  near  by  a  small  round  defensive  hut,  recalling  times 
of  disorder.  Between  the  hills,  however,  are  fields  still  prolific  in  rye, 
though   wholly  destitute   of  trees.     Verdure  re-asserts  itself  wherever 


36 


SPANISH    VISTAS. 


there  is  the  smallest  water-course  ;  and  a  curve  of  the  river  Tagus  is 
sure  to  infold  fruit  orchards  and  melon  vines,  while  the  parched  soil 
briefly  revives  and  puts  forth  delightful  shade -trees.  But  although 
the  river-fed  lands  around  Toledo  are  rich  in  vegetation,  the  ancient 
city  itself,  with  the  Tagus  slung  around  its  base  like  a  loop,  rises  on 
a  sterile  rock,  and  amid  hills  of  bronze.  So  much  are  the  brown  and 
sun -imbued  houses  and  the  old  fortified  walls  in  keeping  with  the 
massy  natural  foundation  that  all  seem  reared  together,  the  huge  form 
of  the  Alcazar,  or  castle — where  the  Spanish  national  military  academy 
is  housed  —  towering  like  a  second  cliff  in  one  corner  of  the  round, 
irregularly  clustered  city.  Our  omnibus  scaled  the  height  by  a  road 
perfectly  adapted  for  conducting  to  some  dragon  stronghold  of  misty 
fable,  and  landed  us  in  the  Zocodover,  the  sole  open  space  of  any 
magnitude  in  that  tangle  of  thread-like  streetlets,  along  which  the 
houses  range  themselves  with  a  semblance  of  order  purely  superficial. 

Most  of  Toledo  is  traversable 
only  for  pedestrians  and  don- 
keys. These  latter  carry  im- 
mense double  baskets  across 
their  backs,  in  which  are  trans- 
ported provisions,  bricks,  coal, 
fowls,  water,  bread,  crockery — 
everything,  in  short,  down  to 
the  dirt  occasionally  scraped 
from  the  thoroughfares.  I  saw 
one  peasant,  rather  advanced 
in  years,  helping  himself  up 
the  steep  rise  of  a  street  on 
the  hill -side  by  means  of  a 
stout  cane  in  one  hand  and 
the  tail  of  his  heavy-laden 
donkey  grasped  in  the  other. 
To  make  room  for  these  use- 
ful beasts  and  their  broad  panniers,  some  of  the  houses  are  hollowed 
out  at  the  corners  ;  in  one  case  the  side  wall  being  actually  grooved 
a  foot  deep  for  a  number  of  yards  along  an  anxious  turning.  Other- 
wise the  panniers  would  touch  both  sides  of  the  way,  and  cause  a 
blockade  as  obstinate  as  the  animal  itself. 

Coming   from   the   outer  world   into  so   strange  a  labyrinth,  where 
there  is  no  echo  of  rolling  wheels,  no  rumble  of  traffic  or  manufacture, 


SPANISH    PEASANT. 
From  a  Drawing  by  William  M.  Cliase. 


THE    LOST    CITY.  3(J 

you  find  yourself  in  a  city  which  may  be  said  to  be  without  a  voice. 
Through  a  hush  like  this,  history  and  tradition  speak  all  the  more 
powerfully.  Toledo  has  been  a  favorite  with  the  novelists.  The  Zoco- 
dover  was  the  haunt  of  that  typical  rogue  Lazarillo  de  Tormes ;  and 
Cervantes,  oddly  as  it  happens,  connects  the  scene  of  La  ilustre  Frc- 
gondc  with  a  shattered  castle  across  the  river,  which  by  a  coincidence 
has  had  its  original  name  of  San  Servando  corrupted  into  San  Cer- 
vantes. 

Never  shall  I  forget  our  walk  around  the  city  walls  that  first  after- 
noon in  Toledo.  A  broad  thoroughfare  skirts  the  disused  defences 
on  the  south  and  west,  running  at  first  along  the  sheer  descent  to  the 
river,  and  a  beetling  height  against  which  houses,  shops,  and  churches 
are  crammed  confusedly.  I  noticed  one  smithy  with  a  wide  dark  mouth 
revealing  the  naked  rock  on  which  walls  and  roof  abutted,  and  other 
houses  into  the  faces  of  which  had  been  wrought  large  granite  projec- 
tions of  the  hill.  After  this  the  way  led  through  a  gate  of  peculiar 
strength  and  shapeliness,  carrying  up  arches  of  granite  and  red  brick 
to  a  considerable  height — a  stout  relic  of  the  proud  Moorish  dominion 
so  long  maintained  here  ;  and  then,  when  we  had  rambled  about  a 
church  of  Santiago  lower  down,  passing  through  some  streets  irregular 
as  foot-paths,  where  over  a  neglected  door  stood  a  unique  announce- 
ment of  the  owner's  name — "I  am  Don  Sanchez.  1792" — -we  came 
to  the  Visagra,  the  country  gate.  This  menacing,  double-towered  por- 
tal is  mediaeval ;  so  that  a  few  steps  had  carried  us  from  Mohammedan 
Alimaymon  to  the  Emperor  Charles  V.  Just  outside  of  it  again  is  the 
Alameda,  the  modern  garden  promenade,  where  the  beauty  and  idle- 
ness of  Toledo  congregate  on  Sunday  evenings  to  the  soft  compulsion 
of  strains  from  the  military  academical  band.  Thin  runnels  of  water 
murmur  along  through  the  hedges  and  embowered  trees,  explaining 
by  their  presence  how  this  refreshing  pleasure-ground  was  conjured 
into  being ;  for  on  the  slope,  a  few  feet  below  the  green  hedges,  you 
still  see  the  sun-parched  soil  just  as  it  once  spread  over  the  whole  area. 
The  contrast  suggests  Eden  blossoming  on  a  crater-side. 

At  the  open-air  soirees  of  the  Alameda  may  be  seen  excellent  ex- 
amples of  Spanish  beauty.  The  national  type  of  woman  appears  here 
in  good  preservation,  and  not  too  much  hampered  by  foreign  airs. 
Doubtless  one  finds  it  too  in  Burgos  and  Madrid,  and  in  fact  every- 
where ;  and  the  grace  of  the  women  in  other  places  is  rather  fonder 
of  setting  itself  off  by  a  fan  used  for  parasol  purposes  in  the  street 
than  in  Toledo.     But  on  the  pasco  and  alamcda  all  Spanish  ladies  carry 


4(1  SPANISH   VISTAS. 

fans,  and  it  is  something  marvellous  to  see  how  they  manage  them. 
Not  for  a  moment  is  the  subtle  instrument  at  rest:  it  flutters,  wavers 
idly,  is  opened  and  shut  in  the  space  of  a  second,  falls  to  the  side,  and 
again  rises  to  take  its  part  in  the  conversation  almost  like  a  third  per- 
son— all  without  effort — with  merely  a  turn  of  the  supple  fingers  or 
wrist,  and  contributing  an  added  charm  to  the  bearer.  The  type  of 
face  which  beams  with  more  or  less  similarity  above  every  fan  in  Spain 
is  difficult  to  describe,  and  at  first  difficult  even  to  apprehend.  One 
has  heard  so  much  about  its  beauty  that  in  the  beginning  it  seems  to 
fall  short ;  but  gradually  its  spell  seizes  on  the  mind,  becoming  strong- 
er and  stronger.  The  tint  varies  from  tawny  rose  or  olive  to  white: 
ladies  of  higher  caste,  from  their  night  life  and  rare  exposure  to  the 
sun,  acquire  a  deathly  pallor,  which  is  unfortunately  too  often  imitated 
with  powder.  Chestnut  or  lighter  hair  is  seen  a  good  deal  in  the  south 
and  east,  but  deep  black  is  the  prevalent  hue.  And  the  eyes ! — it  is 
impossible  to  more  than  suggest  the  luminous,  dreamy  medium  in 
which  they  swim,  so  large,  dark,  and  vivid.  But,  above  all,  there  is 
combined  with  a  certain  child-like  frankness  a  freedom  and  force,  a 
quick  mobility  in  the  lines  of  the  face,  equalled  only  in  American 
women.  To  these  elements  you  must  add  a  strong  arching  eyebrow 
and  a  pervading  richness  and  fire  of  nature  in  the  features,  which  it 
would  be  hard  to  parallel  at  all,  especially  when  the  whole  is  framed 
in  the  seductive  folds  of  the  black  mantilla,  like  a  drifting  night-cloud 
enhancing  the  sparkle  of  a  star. 

As  we  continued  along  the  Camin  de  Marchan  we  looked  down  on 
one  side  over  the  fertile  plain.  The  pale  tones  of  the  ripe  harvest 
and  dense  green  of  trees  contrasted  with  the  rich  brown  and  gray  of 
the  city,  and  dashes  of  red  clay  here  and  there.  In  a  long  field  rose 
detached  fragments  of  masonry,  showing  at  different  points  the  vast 
ground -plan  of  the  Roman  Circus  Maximus,  with  a  burst  of  bright 
ochre  sand  in  the  midst  of  the  stubble,  while  on  the  left  hand  we  had 
an  old  Arab  gate  pierced  with  slits  for  arrows,  and  on  the  crest  above 
that  a  nunnery — St.  Sunday  the  Royal — followed  by  a  line  of  palaces 
and  convents  half  ruined  in  the  Napoleonic  campaign  of  1812.  Out 
in  the  plain  was  the  roof  of  the  sword  factory  where  "  Toledo  blades  " 
are  still  forged  and  tempered  for  the  Spanish  army ;  although  in  the 
finer  details  of  damascening  and  design  nothing  is  produced  beyond 
a  small  stock  of  show  weapons  and  tiny  ornamental  trinkets  for  sale 
to  tourists.  Nor  was  this  all ;  for  a  little  farther  on,  at  the  edge  of 
the   river,  close  to  the  Bridge  of  St.  Martin  and   the  Gate  of  Twelve 


THE    LOST    CITY. 


41 


Stones,  the  broken  remains  of  an  old  Gothic  palace  sprawled  the 
steep,  lying  open  to  heaven  and  vacant  as  the  dull  eye-socket  in  some 
unsepulchred  skull.  Our  stroll  of  a  mile  had  carried  us  back  to  the 
second  century  before  Christ,  the  path  being  strewn  with  relics  of  the 
Roman  conquest,  the  Visigothic  inroad,  the  Moorish  ascendency,  and 
the  returning  tide  of  Christian  power.  But  the  Jews,  seeking  refuge 
after  the  fall  of  Jerusalem,  preceded  all  these,  making  a  still  deeper 
substratum  in  the  marvellous  chronicles  of  Toledo  ;  and  some  of  their 
later  synagogues,  exquisitely  wrought  in  the  Moorish  manner,  still 
stand  in  the  Jewish  quarter  for  the  wonderment  of  pilgrim  connois- 
seurs. 

It  was  from  a  terrace  of  this  old  Gothic  palace  near  the  bridge 
that,  according  to  legend,  Don  Roderick,  the  last  of  the  Goths  in 
Spain,  saw  Florinda,  daughter  of  one  Count 
Julian,  bathing  in  the  yellow  Tagus  under 
a  .four-arched  tower  which  still  invades  the 
flood,  and  goes  by  the  name  of  the  Bath  of 
Florinda.  From  his  passion  for  her,  and 
their  mutual  error,  the  popular  tale,  with  vig- 
orous disregard  of  chronology,  deduces  the 
fall  of  Spain  before  the  Berber  armies;  and 
as  most  old  stories  here  receive  an  ecclesias- 
tical tinge,  this  one  relates  how  Florinda's 
sinful  ghost  continued  to  haunt  the  spot 
where  we  now  stood,  until  laid  by  a  good 
friar  with  cross  and  benediction.  The  sharp 
fall  of  the  bank  at  first  glance  looked  to 
consist  of  ordinary  earth  and  stones,  but  on 
closer  scrutiny  turned  out  to  contain  quan- 
tities of  brick  bits  from  the  old  forts  and 
towers  which  one  generation  after  another 
had  built  on  the  heights,  and  which  had 
slowly  mouldered  into  nullity.  Even  so  the 
firm  lines  of  history  have  fallen  away  and 
crumbled  into  romance,  which  sifts  through 
the  crannies  of  the  whole  withered  old  city. 
As  a  lady  of  my  acquaintance  graphically 
said,  it  seems  as  if  ashes  had  been  thrown  over  this  ancient  capital, 
covering  it  with  a  film  of  oblivion.  The  rocks,  towers,  churches,  ruins, 
arc  just   so    much    corporeal   mythology  —  object,  lessons  in  fable.     A 


SINGING    GIRL. 


4-2 


SPANISH   VISTAS. 


little  girl,  becomingly  neckerchiefed,  wandered  by  us  while  we  leaned 
dreaming-  above  the  river;  and  she  was  singing  one  of  the  wild  little 
songs  of  the  country,  full  of  melancholy  melody: 

"  Fair  Malaga,  adios  ! 

All,  land  where  I  was  born, 
Thou  hadst  mother-love  for  all, 
But  for  me  step-mother's  scorn  !" 


CLOISTER   OF    ST.  JOHN    OF   THE   KINGS. 


THE    LOST    CITY. 


43 


All  unconscious  of  the  monuments  around  her,  she  stopped  when  she 
saw  that  we  had  turned  and  were  listening.  Then  we  resumed  our 
way,  passing,  I  may  literally  say,  as  if  in  a  trance  up  into  the  town 
again,  where  we  presently  found  ourselves  in  front  of  St.  John  of  the 
Kings,  a  venerable  church,  formerly  connected  with  a  Franciscan  mon- 
astery which  the  French  burnt.  On  the  outer  wall  high  up  hangs  a 
stern  fringe  of  chains,  placed  there  as  votive  tokens  by  released  Chris- 
tian captives  from  Granada,  in  1492  ;  and  there  they  have  remained 
since  America  was  discovered  ! 

To  this  church  is  attached  a  most  beautiful  cloister,  calm  with  the 
solitude  of  nearly  four  hundred   years.     Around   three  sides   the   rich 
clustered  columns,  each  with  its  figures  of  holy 
men  supported  under  pointed  canopies,  mark  the 
delicate   Gothic   arches,  through  which   the   sun. 
light  slants  upon  the  pavement,  falling  between 
the   leaves   of  aspiring  vines   that  twine  upward 
from  the  garden  in  the  middle.     There  the  rose- 
laurel  blooms,  and   a   rude   fountain   perpetually 
gurgles,  hidden   in   thick   greenery ;   and    on   the 
fourth  side  the  wall  is  dismantled  as  the  French 
bombardment  left  it.     Seventy  years  have  passed, 
and  though  the  sculptured  blocks  for  restoration 
have  been  got  together,  the  vines  grow  over  them, 
and  no  work  has  been  done.     We  mounted  the 
bell-tower  part  way  with  the  custodian,  and  gain- 
ed a  gallery  looking  into  the  chapel,  strangely  adorned  with  regal  shields 
and  huge  eagles  in  stone.     On  our  way,  under  one  part  of  the  tower 
roof,  we  found  a  hen  calmly  strutting  with  her  brood.     "  It  was  meant 
for  celibacy,"  said  the  custodian,  "but  times  change,  and  you  see  that 
family  life  has  established  itself  here  after  all." 

I  don't  know  whether  there  is  anything  particularly  sacred  about 
the  hens  of  this  district,  but  after  seeing  this  one  in  the  church-tower 
I  began  to  think  there  might  be,  especially  as  on  the  way  home  we 
discovered  another  imprisoned  fowl  disconsolately  looking  down  at  us 
from  the  topmost  window  of  a  venerable  patrician  residence. 


A   BIT    OF   CHARACTER. 


•ii 


SPANISH    VISTAS. 


II. 

Its  antiquities  are  not  the  queerest  thing  about  Toledo.  The  sights 
of  the  day,  the  isolated  existence  of  the  inhabitants,  are  things  peculiar. 
The  very  sports  of  the  children  reflect  the  prevailing  influences.  A 
favorite  diversion  with  them  is  to  parade  in  some  dark  hall-way  with 
slow  step  and  droning  chants,  in  imitation  of  church  festivals;  and  in 


SPANISH    SOLDIERS    PLAYING    DOMINOS. 


THE    LOST    CITY 


45 


the  street  we  found  boys  playing  at  toros.  Some  took 
off  their  coats  to  wave  as  mantles  before  the  bull,  who 
hid  around  the  corner  until  the  proper  time  for  his  en- 
try. The  bull  in  this  game,  I  noticed,  had  a  nice  sense 
of  fair  play,  and  would  stop  to  argue  points  with  his 
antagonists — something  I  should  have  been  glad  to  see 
in  the  real  arena.  Once  the  old  rock  town  accom- 
modated two  hundred  thousand  residents.  Its  contin- 
gent has  now  shrunk  to  twenty  thousand,  yet  it 
swarms  with  citizens,  cadets,  loafers,  and  beg- 
gars. Its  tortuous  wynds  are  full  of  wine- 
shops, vegetables,  and  children, 
all  mixed  up  together.  Superb 
old  palaces,  nevertheless,  open 
off  from  them,  frequently  with 
spacious  courts  inside,  shaded 
by  trellised  vines,  and  with 
pillars  at  the  entrance  top- 
ped by  heavy  stone  balls,  or 
doors  studded  with  nails  and 
moulded  in  rectangular  pat- 
terns like  inlay-work.  One 
day  we  wandered  through  a 
sculptured  gate-way  and  en- 
tered a  paved  opening  with 
a  carved  wood  gallery  run- 
ning around  the  walls  above. 
Orange-trees  in  tubs  stood 
about,  and  a  brewery  was 
established  in  these  palatial 
quarters.  We  ordered  a  bot- 
tle, but  I  noticed  that  the 
brewer  stood  regarding  us 
anxiously.  At  last  he  drew 
nearer,  and  asked,"  Do  you 
come  from  Madrid?" 

"Yes." 

"Ah,  then,"  said  he,  in 
a  disheartened  tone,  "  you 
won't  like  our  beer."  A  NARRO\v  street. 


life! 


46 


SPANISH    VISTAS. 


We  encouraged  him,  however,  and  at  last  he  disappeared,  sending  us 
the  beverage  diplomatically  by  another  hand.  He  was  too  faint-spir- 
ited to  witness  the  trial  himself.  Though  called 
"The  Delicious,"  the  thin,  sweet,  gaseous  liquid 
was  certainly  detestable  ;  but  in  deference  to  the 
brewer's  delicate  conscientiousness  we  drank  as 
much  as  possible,  and  then  left  with  his  wife  some 
money  and  a  weakly  complimentary  remark  about 
the  beer,  which  evidently  came  just  in  time  to 
convince  her  that  we  were,  after  all,  discriminat- 
ing judges. 

The  people  generally  were  very  simple  and 
good-natured,  and  in  particular  a  young  com- 
mercial traveller  from  Barcelona  whom  we  met 
exerted  himself  to  entertain  us.  The  chief  street 
was  lined  with  awnings  reaching  to  the  curb- 
stone in  front  of  the  shops,  and  every  public  door- 
way was  screened  by  a  striped  curtain.  Pushing 
aside  one  of  these,  our  new  acquaintance  intro- 
duced us  to  what  seemed  a  dingy  bar,  but,  by  a 
series  of  turnings,  opened  out  into  a  spacious  con- 
cealed cafe — that  of  the  Two  Brothers — where  we 
frequently  repaired  with  him  to  sip  chiccory  and 
cognac  or  play  dominos.  On  these  occasions  he  kept  the  tally  in  pencil 
on  the  marble  table,  marking  the  side  of  himself  and  a  friend  with  their 
initials,  and  heading  ours  "  The  Strangers."  All  travellers  in  Spain 
are  described  by  natives  as  "Strangers"  or  "French,"  and  the  reputa- 
tion for  a  pure  Parisian  accent  which  we  acquired  under  these  circum- 
stances, though  brief,  was  glorious.  To  the  Two  Brothers  resorted 
many  soldiers,  shop-keepers,  and  well-to-do  housewives  during  fixed 
hours  of  the  afternoon  and  evening,  but  at  other  times  it  was  as  for- 
saken as  Don  Roderick's  palace.  Another  place  of  amusement  was  the 
Grand  Summer  Theatre,  lodged  within  the  ragged  walls  of  a  large  build- 
ing which  had  been  half  torn  down.  Here  we  sat  under  the  stars,  lux- 
uriating in  the  most  expensive  seats  (at  eight  cents  per  head),  surround- 
ed by  a  full  audience  of  exceedingly  good  aspect,  including  some  Tole- 
dan  ladies  of  great  beauty,  and  listened  to  a  zarzncla,  or  popular  comic 
opera,  in  which  the  prompter  took  an  almost  too  energetic  part.  The 
ticket  collector  came  in  among  the  chairs  to  receive  everybody's  cou- 
pons with  very  much  the  air  of  being  one  of  the  family  ;   for  while  per- 


\A 


// 


-.    fc\ 


WOMAN    WITH    BUNDLE. 


THE   SERENADERS, 


THE    LOST    CITY.  49 

forming  his  stern  duty  he  smoked  a  short  brier  pipe,  giving  to  the  act 
an  indescribable  dignity  which  threw  the  whole  business  of  the  tickets 
into  a  proper  subordination.  In  returning  to  our  inn  about  midnight 
we  were  attracted  by  the  free  cool  sound  of  a  guitar  duet  issuing  from 
a  dark  street  that  rambled  off  somewhere  like  a  worm  track  in  old  wood, 
and,  pursuing  the  sound,  we  discovered  by  the  aid  of  a  match  lighted 
for  a  cigarette  two  men  standing  in  the  obscure  alley,  and  serenading 
a  couple  of  ladies  in  a  balcony,  who  positively  laughed  with  pride  at  the 
attention.  The  men,  it  proved,  had  been  hired  by  some  admirer,  and 
so  our  friend  engaged  them  to  perform  for  us  at  the  hotel  the  follow- 
ing night. 

The  skill  these  thrummers  of  the  guitar  display  is  delicious,  especially 
in  the  treble  part,  which  is  executed  on  a  smaller  species  of  the  instru- 
ment, called  a  mandura.  Our  treble-player  was  blind  in  one  eye,  and 
with  the  carelessness  of  genius  allowed  his  mouth  to  stay  open,  but 
managed  always  to  keep  a  cigarette  miraculously  hanging  in  it ;  while 
his  comrade,  with  a  disconsolate  expression,  disdained  to  look  at  the 
strings  on  which  his  proud  Castilian  fingers  were  condemned  to  play  a 
mere  accompaniment.  For  two  or  three  hours  they  rippled  out  those 
peculiar  native  airs  which  go  so  well  with  the  muffled  vibrations  and 
mournful  Oriental  monotony  of  the  guitar;  but  the  bagman  varied  the 
concert  by  executing  operatic  pieces  on  a  hair-comb  covered  with  thin 
paper — a  contrivance  in  which  he  took  unfeigned  delight.  Some  re- 
monstrance against  this  uproar  being  made  by  other  inmates  of  the 
hotel,  our  host  silenced  the  complainants  by  cordially  inviting  them  in- 
One  large  black-bearded  guest,  the  exact  reproduction  of  a  stately  an- 
cient Roman,  accepted  the  hospitality,  and  listened  to  that  ridiculous 
piping  of  the  comb  with  profound  gravity  and  unmoved  muscles,  ex- 
pressing neither  approval  nor  dissatisfaction.  But  the  white-aproned 
waiter,  who,  though  unasked,  hung  spellbound  on  the  threshold,  was, 
beyond  question,  deeply  impressed.  The  relations  of  servants  with 
employers  are  on  a  very  democratic  footing  in  Spain.  We  had  an  ad- 
mirable butler  at  Madrid  who  used  to  join  in  the  conversation  at  table 
whenever  it  interested  him,  and  was  always  answered  with  good  grace 
by  the  conversationists,  who  admitted  him  to  their  intellectual  repast 
at  the  same  moment  that  he  was  proffering  them  physical  nutriment. 
These  Toledan  servitors  of  the  Fonda  de  Lino  were  still  more  informal. 
They  used  to  take  naps  regularly  twice  a  day  in  the  hall,  and  could  not 
get  through  serving  dinner  without  an  occasional  cigarette  between  the 
courses.     To  save  labor,  they  would  place  a  pile  of  plates  in  front  of 


50 


SPANISH    VISTAS. 


A  PLENTIFUL  SUPPLY  OF  PLATES. 


each  person,  enough  to  hold  the  entire  list  of  viands.  That  last  phrase 
is  a  euphemism,  however,  for  the  meal  each  clay  consisted  of  the  same 
meat  served  in  three  separate  relays  without  vegetables,  followed  by 
fowl,  an  allowance  of  beans,  and  dessert.  Even  this  they  were  not  par- 
ticular to  give  us  on  the  hour.  Famished 
beyond  endurance,  one  evening  at  eight 
o'clock,  we  went  down -stairs  and  found 
that  not  the  first  movement  toward  din- 
ner had  been  made.  The  mozos  (waiters) 
were  smoking  and  gossiping  in  the  street, 
and  rather  frowned  upon  our  vulgar  desire 
for  food,  but  we  finally  persuaded  them 
to  yield  to  it.  After  we  had  bought  some 
tomatoes,  and  made  a  salad  at  dinner,  the 
7i^>  management  was  put  on  its  mettle,  and 
improved  slightly.  Fish  in  this  country 
is  always  brought  on  somewhere  in  the 
middle  of  dinner,  like  the  German  pud- 
ding, and  our  landlord  astonished  us  by 
following  the  three  courses  of  stewed  veal 
with  sardines,  fried  in  oil  and  ambuscaded  in  a  mass  of  boiled  green 
peppers.     After  that  we  forbore  to  stimulate  his  ambition  any  farther. 

The  hotel  guest,  however,  is  on  the  whole  regarded  as  a  necessary 
evil — a  nuisance  tolerated  only  because  some  few  of  the  finest  race  in 
the  world  can  make  money  out  of  him.  The  landlord  lived  with  his 
family  on  the  ground -floor,  and  furnished  little  domestic  tableaux  as 
we  passed  in  and  out ;  but  lie  never  paid  any  attention  to  us,  and 
even  looked  rather  hurt  at  the  intrusion  of  so  many  strangers  into 
his  hostelry.  Nor  did  the  high-born  sewing-women  who  sat  on  the 
public  stairs,  and  left  only  a  narrow  space  for  other  people  to  ascend 
or  descend  by,  consider  it  necessary  to  stir  in  the  least  for  our  con- 
venience. The  fonda  had  more  of  the  old  tavern  or  posada  style 
about  it  than  most  hotels  patronized  by  foreigners.  The  entrance 
door  led  immediately  into  a  double  court,  where  two  or  three  yellow 
equipages  stood ;  and  from  this  the  kitchen,  storerooms,  and  stable 
all  branched  off  in  some  clandestine  way.  Above,  at  the  eaves,  these 
courts  were  covered  with  canvas  awnings  wrinkled  in  regular  folds  on 
iron  rods — sheltering  covers  which  remained  drawn  from  the  first  flood 
of  the  morning  sun  until  after  five  in  the  afternoon.  Early  and  late 
I    used    to   look   down   into   the   inner  court,  observing   the    men    and 


THE    LOST    CITY. 


51 


women  of  the  household  as  they  dressed  fish  and  silently  wrung  the 
necks  of  chickens,  or  sat  talking  a  running  stream  of  nothingness  by 
the  hour,  for  love  of  their  own  glib  but  uncouth  voices.  People  of 
this  province  intone  rather  than  talk  :  their  sentences  are  set  to  dis- 
tinct drawling  tunes,  such  as  I  never  before  encountered  in  ordinary 
speech,  and  their  thick  lisping  of  all  sibilants,  combined  with  the  usual 
contralto  of  their  voices,  gives  the  language  a  sonorous  burr,  for  which 
one  soon  acquires  a  liking.  Sunday  is  the  great  hair-combing  day  in 
Toledo,  if  I  may  judge  from  the  manner  in  which  women  carried  on 
that  soothing  operation  in  their  door -ways  and  patios ;  and  in  this 
inner  court  below  my  window  one  of  the  servants,  sitting  on  a  stone 
slab,     enjoyed      the 


double  profit  of  sew- 
ing and  of  letting  a 
companion  manipu- 
late her  yard -long 
locks  of  jet,  while  oth- 
ers sat  near,  fanning 
themselves  and  chat- 
tering. Another  time 
a  little  girl,  dark  as 
an  Indian,  came  there 
in  the  morning  to 
wash  a  kerchief  at  the 
stone  tank,  always 
brimming  with  dirty 
water;  after  which 
she  executed,  unsus- 
picious of  my  gaze,  a 
singularly  weird  pas 
seul,  a  sort  of  shadow 
dance,  on  the  pave- 
ment, and  then  van- 
ished. 

All  the  houses  are 
roofed  with  heavy 
curved  tiles,  which  fit 

together  so  as  to  let  the  air  circulate  under  their  hollow  grooves ;  and 
a  species  of  many-seeded  grass  sprouts  out  of  these  baked  earth  cov- 
erings, out    of  the    ledges    of  old    towers   and   belfries,  and    from    the 


THE    TOILET — A    SUNDAY    SCENE. 


52  Spanish  vistas. 

crevices  of  the  great   cathedral  itself,  like  the  downy  hair  on  an  old 
woman's  cheek. 

The  view  along  almost  any  one  of  the  ancient  streets,  which  are 
always  tilted  by  the  hilly  site,  is  wonderfully  quaint  in  its  irregularities. 
Every  window  is  heavily  grated  with  iron,  from  the  top  to  the  bottom 
story,  even  the  openings  high  up  in  the  cathedral  spire  being  similarly 
guarded,  until  the  whole  place  looks  like  a  metropolis  of  prisons.  In 
the  stout  doors,  too,  there  are  small  openings  or  peep-holes,  such  as 
we  had  seen  still  in  actual  use  at  Madrid — the  relics  of  an  epoch  when 
even  to  open  to  an  unknown  visitor  might  be  dangerous.  White, 
white,  white  the  sunshine  ! — and  the  walls  of  pink  or  yellow-brown,  of 
pale  green  and  blue,  are  sown  with  deep  shadows  and  broken  by  big 
archways,  often  surmounted  by  rich  knightly  escutcheons.  Balconies 
with  tiled  floors  turning  their  colors  down  toward  the  sidewalk  stud 
the  fronts,  and  long  curtains  stream  over  them  like  cloaks  fluttering 
in  the  breeze.  At  one  point  a  peak-roofed  tower  rises  above  the  rest 
of  its  house  with  sides  open  to  the  air  and  cool  shadow  within,  where 
perhaps  a  woman  sits  and  works  behind  a  row  of  bright  flowering 
plants.  Doves  inhabited  the  fonda  roof  unmolested  by  the  spiritless 
cats  that,  flat  as  paper,  slept  in  the  undulations  of  the  tiles;  for  the 
Toledan  cats  and  dogs  are  the  most  wretched  of  their  kind.  They 
get  even  less  to  eat  than  their  human  neighbors,  which  is  saying  a 
great  deal.  And  beyond  the  territory  of  the  doves  my  view  extended 
to  a  slender  bell-spire  at  the  end  of  the  cathedral,  poised  in  the  bright 
air  like  a  flower-stalk,  with  one  bell  seen  through  an  interstice  as  if  it 
were  a  blossom.  At  another  point  the  main  spire  rose  out  of  what 
might  be  called  a  rich  thicket  of  Gothic  work.  Its  tall  thin  shaft  is 
encircled  near  the  point  with  sharp  radiating  spikes  of  iron,  doubtless 
intended  to  recall  the  crown  of  thorns:  in  this  sign  of  the  Passion, 
held  forever  aloft,  three  hundred  feet  above  the  ground,  there  is  a 
penetrating  pathos,  a  solemn  beauty. 

III. 

The  cathedral  of  Toledo,  long  the  seat  of  the  Spanish  primate, 
stands  in  the  first  rank  of  cathedrals,  and  is  invested  with  a  ponderous 
gloom  that  has  something  almost  savage  about  it.  For  six  centuries 
art,  ecclesiasticism,  and  royal  power  lavished  their  resources  upon  it. 
and  its  dusky  chapels  are  loaded  with  precious  gems  and  metals,  taw- 
dry though  the  style  of  their  ornamentation  often  is.     The  huge  pil- 


THE   LOST   CITY. 


■,:; 


lars  that  divide  its  five  naves  rise  with  a  peculiar  inward  curve,  which 
gives  them  an  elastic  look  of  growth.  They  are  the  giant  roots  from 
which  the  rest  has  spread.  Under  the  golden  gratings  and  jasper 
steps  of  the  high  altar  Cardinal  Mendoza  lies  buried,  with  a  number 
of  the  older  kings  of  Spain,  in  a  grewsome  sunless  vault ;  but  at  the 
back  of  the  altar  there  is  contrived  with  theatrical  effect  a  burst  of 
white  light  from  a  window  in  the  arched  ceiling,  around  the  pale  radi- 
ance of  which  are  assembled  painted  figures,  gradually  giving  place 
to  others  in  veritable  relief — all  sprawling,  flying,  falling  down  the  wall 
enclosing  the  altar,  as  if  one  were  suddenly  permitted  to  see  a  swarm 
of  saints  and  angels  careering  in  a  beam  of  real  supernatural  illumi- 
nation. A  private  covered  gallery  leads  above  the  street  from  the 
archbishop's  palace  into  one  side  of  the  mighty  edifice  ;  and  this,  with 
the  rambling,  varied  aspect  of  the  exterior,  in  portions  resembling  a 
fortress,  with  a  stone  sentry-box  on  the  roof,  recalls  the  days  of  prel- 
ates who  put  themselves  at  the  head  of  armies,  leading  in  war  as  in 
everything  else.  A  spacious  adjoining  cloister, 
full  of  climbing  ivy  and  figs,  Spanish  cypress, 
the  smooth-trunked  laurel-tree,  and  many  other 
growths,  all  bathed  in  opulent  sunshine,  marks 
the  site  of  an  old  Jewish  market,  which  Arch- 
bishop Tenorio  in  1389  incited  a  mob  to  burn 
in  order  that  he  might  have  room  for  this  sacred 
garden.  But  the  voices  of  children  now  ring  out 
from  the  upper  rooms  of  the  cloister  building, 
where  the  widows  and  orphans  of  cathedral  ser- 
vants are  given  free  homes.  Through  this  "  clois- 
ter of  the  great  church  "  it  was  that  Cervantes 
says  he   hurried   with   the   MS.  of   Cid    Hamete 

Benengeli,  containing  Don  Quixote's   history,  after  he   had   bought   it 
for  half  a  real — just  two  cents  and  a  half. 

A  temple  of  the  barbaric  and  the  barbarous,  the  cathedral  dates 
from  the  thirteenth  century;  but  it  was  preceded  by  one  which  was 
built  to  the  Virgin  in  her  lifetime,  tradition  says,  and  she  came  down 
from  heaven  to  visit  her  shrine.  The  identical  slab  on  which  she 
alighted  is  still  preserved  in  one  of  the  chapels.  A  former  inscription 
said  to  believers,  "  Use  yourselves  to  kiss  it  for  your  much  consola- 
tion," and  their  obedient  lips  have  in  time  greatly  worn  down  the 
stone.  Later  on,  the  church  was  used  as  a  mosque  by  the  infidel 
conquerors,  and  when  they  were  driven  out  it  was  pulled  down  to  be 


A   TOLEDO    PRIEST. 


54  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

replaced  by  the  present  huge  and  solemn  structure.  But,  by  a  com- 
promise with  the  subjugated  Moors,  a  Muzarabic  mass  (a  seeming  mixt- 
ure of  Mohammedan  ritual  with  Christian  worship)  was  ordained  to 
be  said  in  a  particular  chapel ;  and  there  it  is  recited  still,  every  morn- 
ing in  the  year.  I  attended  this  weird,  half-Eastern  ceremony,  which 
was  conducted  with  an  extraordinary  incessant  babble  of  rapid  prayer 
from  the  priests  in  the  stalls,  precisely  like  the  inarticulate  hum  one 
imagines  in  a  mosque.  On  the  floor  below  and  in  front  of  the  altar- 
steps  was  placed  a  richly- draped  chest,  perhaps  meant  to  represent 
the  tomb  of  Mohammed  in  the  Caaba,  and  around  it  stood  lighted 
candles.  During  the  long  and  involved  mass  one  of  the  younger 
priests,  in  appearance  almost  an  imbecile,  had  the  prayer  he  was  to 
read  pointed  out  for  him  by  an  altar- boy  with  what  looked  like  a 
long  knife-blade,  used  for  the  purpose.  Soon  after  an  incense-bearing 
acolyte  nudged  him  energetically  to  let  him  know  that  his  turn  had 
now  come.  This  was  the  only  evidence  I  could  discover  of  any  prog- 
ress in  knowledge  or  goodness  resulting  from  the  Muzarabic  mass. 

At  one  time  Toledo  had,  besides  the  cathedral,  a  hundred  and  ten 
churches.  Traces  of  many  of  them  are  still  seen  in  small  arches  rising 
from  the  midst  of  house-tops,  with  a  bell  swung  in  the  opening;  but 
the  most  have  fallen  into  disuse,  and  the  greatest  era  of  the  hierarchy 
has  passed.  The  great  priests  have  also  passed,  and  those  who  now 
dwell  here  offer  to  the  most  unprejudiced  eye  a  dreary  succession  of 
bloated  bodies  and  brutish  faces.  Sermons  are  never  read  in  the  gor- 
geous cathedral  pulpits,  and  the  Church,  as  even  an  ardent  Catholic 
assured  me,  seems,  at  least  locally,  dead.  The  priests  and  the  pros- 
perous shop-keepers  are  almost  the  only  beings  in  Toledo  who  look 
portly;  the  rest  are  thin,  brown,  wiry,  and  tall,  with  fine  creases  in  their 
hard  faces  that  appear  to  have  been  drilled  there  by  the  sand-blast 
process. 

The  women,  however,  even  in  the  humbler  class,  preserve  a  fine, 
fresh  animal  health,  which  makes  you  wonder  how  they  ever  grow  old, 
until  you  see  some  tottering  creature  who  is  little  more  than  a  mass  of 
.sinews  and  wrinkles  held  together  by  a  skirt  and  a  neckerchief — the 
panuclo  universal  with  her  sex.  At  noon  and  evening  the  serving- 
women  came  out  to  the  fountains,  distributed  here  and  there  under 
groups  of  miniature  locust-trees,  to  fetch  water  for  their  houses.  They 
carried  huge  earthen  jars,  or  cantaroncs,  which  they  would  lug  off  easily 
under  one  arm,  in  attitudes  of  inimitable  grace. 

If  religious   sway  over  temporal   things   has   declined,  Toledo   still 


^t:W-'. 


TOLEDO    SERVITORS    AT   THE   FOUNTAIN. 


THE    LOST    CITY. 


impresses  one  as  little  more  than  a  big  church  founded  on  the  rock, 
with  room  made  for  the  money-changers'  benches,  and  an  unimagina- 
ble jumble  of  palaces  once  thronged  with  powerful  courtiers  and  abun- 
dant in  wealth,  but  at  this  day  chiefly  inhabited  by  persons  of  humble 
quality.  Nightly  there  glows  in 
the  second  story  of  a  building 
on  the  Zocodover,  where  autos- 
da-fe  used  to  be  held,  a  large 
arched  shrine  of  the  Virgin  hung 
with  mellow  lamps,  so  that  not 
even  with  departing  daylight 
shall  religious  duty  be  put  aside 
by  the  commonplace  crowd 
shuffling  through  the  plaza  be- 
neath. Everywhere  in  angles 
and  turnings  and  archways  one 
comes  upon  images  and  pictures 
fixed  to  the  wall  under  a  pointed 
roof  made  with  two  short  boards, 
to  draw  a  passing  genuflection 
or  incidental  avc  from  any  one 
who  may  be  going  by  on  an 
errand  of  business  or — as  more 
often  occurs  —  laziness.  Feast- 
days,  too,  are  still  ardently  ob- 
served. With  all  this,  somehow, 
the  fact  connects  itself  that  the 
populace  are  instinctive,  free- 
born,  insatiable  beggars.  The 
magnificently  chased  door-ways 
of  the  cathedral  festered  with 
revolting  specimens  of  human 
disease  and  degeneration,  ap- 
pealing for   alms.     Other    more      \ 


*&* 


prosperous  mendicants  were  reg-      "*> .  ^ 
ularly  on   hand  for  business  ev-  ; 

ery  day  at  the  "  old  stand  "  in 
some  particular  thoroughfare.  I 
remember  one,  especially,  whose 

whole  capital  was  invested  in  a  superior  article  of  nervous  complaint, 

4* 


A    PROFESSIONAL    KEGGAK. 


58 


SPANISH    VISTAS. 


which  enabled  him  to  balance  himself  between  the  wall  and  a  crutch, 
and  there  oscillate  spasmodically  by  the  hour.  In  this  he  was  entirely 
beyond  competition,  and  cast  into  the  shade  those  merely  routine  pro- 
fessionals who  took  the  common  line  of  bad  eyes  or  uninterestingly 
motionless  deformities.  It  used  to  depress  them  when  he  came  on  to 
the  ground.  Bright  little  children,  even,  in  perfect  health,  would  de- 
sist from  their  amuse- 
ments and  assail  us, 
struck  with  the  happy 
thought  that  they 
might  possibly  whee- 
dle the  "  strangers  " 
into  some  untimely 
generosity.  There  was 
one  pretty  girl  of  about 
ten  years,  who  laugh- 
ed outright  at  the 
thought  of  her  own 
impudence,  but  stop- 
ped none  the  less  for 
half  an  hour  on  her 
way  to  market  (carry- 
ing a  basket  on  her 
arm)  in  order  to  pes- 
ter poor  Velveteen 
while  he  was  sketch- 
ing, and  begged  him 
\\  ">isi  f°r  money,  first  to  get 

~    . '~~     ~~zp-  bread,  and  then  shoes, 

a  group  of  mendicants.  and  then  anything  she 

could  think  of. 
A  hand  opened  to  receive  money  would  be  a  highly  suitable  device 
for  the  municipal  coat  of  arms. 

My  friend's  irrepressible  pencil,  by-the-way,  made  him  the  centre  of 
a  crowd  wherever  he  went.  Grave  business  men  came  out  of  their  shops 
to  see  what  he  was  drawing ;  loungers  made  long  and  ingenious  de- 
tours in  order  to  obtain  a  good  view  of  his  labors;  ragamuffins  elbowed 
•  him,  undismayed  by  energetic  remarks  in  several  languages,  until  final- 
ly he  was  moved  to  get  up  and  display  the  contents  of  his  pockets, 
invitins  them  even  to  read  some  letters  he  had  with  him.     To  this  sen- 


THE    LOST    CITY". 


51) 


tie  satire  they  would  sometimes  yield.  We  fell  a  prey,  however,  to  one 
silent  youth  of  whom  we  once  unguardedly  asked  a  question.  After 
that  he    considered  himself   permanently   engaged   to   pilot   us    about. 


A    PATIO    IN   TOLED 


lie  would  linger  for  hours  near  the  fonda  dinnerless,  and,  what  was 
even  more  terrible,  sleepless,  so  that  he  might  fasten  upon  us  the  mo- 
ment we  should  emerge.  If  he  discovered  our  destination,  he  would 
stride  off  mutely  in  advance,  to  impress  on  us  the  fact  that  we  were 
under  obligation  to  him  ;  and  when  we  found  the  place  we  wanted,  he 
waited  patiently  until  we  had  rewarded  him  with  a  half-cent.     If  we 


(JO  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

gratified  him  by  asking  him  the  way,  he  responded  by  silently  stretch- 
ing forth  his  arm  and  one  long  forefinger  with  a  lordly  gesture,  still 
striding  on  ;  and  he  had  a  very  superior  Castilian  sneering  smile,  which 
he  put  on  when  he  looked  around  to  see  if  we  were  following.  He 
gradually  became  for  us  a  sort  of  symbolic  shadow  of  the  town's  van- 
ished greatness  ;  and  from  his  mysterious  way  of  coming  into  sight,  and 
haunting  us  in  the  most  unexpected  places,  we  gave  him  the  name  of 
"Ghost."  Nevertheless,  we  baffled  him  at  last.  In  the  Street  of  the 
Christ  of  Light  there  is  a  small  but  exceedingly  curious  mosque,  now 
converted  into  a  church,  so  ancient  in  origin  that  some  of  the  capitals 
in  it  are  thought  to  show  Visigothic  work,  so  that  it  must  have  been  a 
Christian  church  even  before  the  Moorish  invasion.  Close  by  this  we 
chanced  upon  a  charming  old  patio,  or  court-yard,  entered  through  a 
wooden  gate,  and  by  dexterously  gliding  in  here  and  shutting  the  gate 
we  exorcised  "  Ghost  "  for  some  time. 

The  broad  red  tiles  of  this  patio  contrasted  well  with  its  white- 
washed arcade  pillars,  on  which  were  embossed  the  royal  arms  of  Cas- 
tile ;  and  the  jutting  roof  of  the  house  was  supported  on  elaborate 
beams  of  old  Spanish  cedar  cracked  with  age.  It  was  sadly  neglected. 
Flowers  bloomed  in  the  centre,  but  a  pile  of  lumber  littered  one  side; 
and  the  house  was  occupied  by  an  old  woman  who  was  washing  in  the 
arcade,  her  tub  being  the  half  of  a  big  terra-cotta  jar  laid  on  its  side. 
She  spread  her  linen  out  on  the  hot  pavement  to  dry;  and  a  sprightly 
neighbor  coming  in  with  a  basket  of  clothes  and  a  "  Health  to  thee  !" 
was  invited  to  dry  her  wash  on  a  low  tile  roof  adjoining. 

"Solitude"  served  at  once  as  her  name  and  to  describe  her  sur- 
roundings. We  made  friends  with  her,  the  more  easily  because  she- 
was  much  interested  in  the  sketch  momently  growing  under  my  com- 
panion's touch. 

"And  you  don't  draw?"  she  inquired  of  me. 

I  answered,  apologetically,  "  No." 

Having  seen  me  glancing  over  a  book,  she  added,  as  if  to  console 
me,  and  with  emphasis,  "  But  you  can  read  !"  To  her  mind  that  was 
a  sister  art  and  an  equal  one. 

She  went  on  to  tell  how  her  granddaughter  had  spent  ten  years  in 
school,  and  at  the  end  of  that  time  was  able  to  read.  "  But  now  she  is 
forgetting  it  all.  She  goes  out  and  plays  too  much  with  the  muclia- 
clias"  (young  girls). 

This  amiable  grandmother  also  took  us  in  to  see  her  domicile,  which 
proved  to  be  a  part  of  the  old  city  wall,  and  had  a  fine  view  from  its 


THE    HOME   OF    "  SOLITUDE. 


THE    LOST    CITY.  03 

iron-barred  window.  She  declared  vaguely  thai  "  a  count  "  had  former- 
ly lived  there  ;  but  it  had  more  probably  been  the  gate-captain's  house, 
for  close  by  was  one  of  the  fortified  ports  of  the  inner  defences.  A 
store-room,  in  fact,  which  she  kept  full  of  pigeons  and  incredibly  mis- 
cellaneous old  iron,  stood  directly  over  the  arched  entrance,  and  there 
we  saw  the  heavy  beam  and  windlass  which  in  by-gone  ages  had  hoisted 
or  let  fall  the  spiked  portcullis.  I  induced  "Solitude"  to  tell  me  a 
legend  about  one  of  the  churches;  for  there  is  generally  some  story  to 
every  square  rod  of  ground  hereabout,  and  indeed  a  little  basilica  be- 
low the  town  sustains  four  different  narratives  all  explaining  a  single 
miracle.  Serving  as  an  appropriate  foundation  for  local  wonder-mon- 
o-erino-,  a  great  cave  in  the  rock  underlies  some  portion  of  the  city,  and 
is  said  to  have  been  hollowed  out  by  Hercules,  who,  in  addition  to  his 
other  labors,  has  received  the  credit  of  founding  Toledo.  I  am  con- 
vinced that  no  muscles  but  his  could  ever  have  stood  the  strain  of  first 
climbing  its  site.  The  cave  I  refer  to  has  been  for  the  most  part  of  the 
last  two  hundred  years  closed  and  walled  up.  About  thirty  years  since 
it  was  timidly  explored  by  a  society  formed  for  the  purpose,  and  some 
Roman  remains  were  found  in  it;  but  after  that,  terror  fell  upon  the 
explorers,  and  the  cavern  was  again  closed,  remaining  even  yet  a  reser- 
voir of  mystery.  There  are  equally  mysterious  things  above  ground, 
however,  as  will  shortly  be  demonstrated  by  the  tale  of  the  "  Christ  of 
Compassion."  Let  me,  before  giving  that,  recall  here  a  more  poetic 
tradition,  preserved  by  Senor  Eugenio  Olavarria,  a  young  author  of 
Madrid.  We  saw  just  outside  the  mosque -church  of  the  Christ  of 
Light  an  old  Moorish  well,  of  a  kind  common  in  Spain,  with  a  low 
thick  wall  surrounding  the  deep  sunken  shaft,  to  rest  the  bucket-chain 
on  when  it  is  let  down  and  drawn  up  by  sheer  muscular  force.  The 
edges  were  worn  into  one  continuous  pattern  of  grooves  by  the  inces- 
sant chafing  of  the  chains  for  ages,  and  we  conjured  up  a  dozen  ro- 
mances about  the  people  who  of  old  slaked  their  thirst  there.  It  is 
about  another  water-source  of  the  same  kind,  on  a  small  street  still  called 
Descent  to  the  Bitter  Well,  that  the  story  here  outlined  is  told  : 

THE  WELL  OE  BITTERNESS. 
"  In  the  time  of  one  of  the  Moorish  kings  there  lived  at  Toledo,  under 
the  mild  toleration  of  that  epoch,  a  rich  Jew,  strictly  and  passionately 
devoted  to  the  laws  of  his  religion  and  to  one  only  other  object :  that 
one  was  his  daughter  Raquel,  motherless,  but  able  to  solace  his  widow- 
ed heart  with  her  devoted  affection.     Sixteen  Aprils  had  wrought  their 


G4  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

beautiful  changes  into  her  exquisite  form  and  lovely  mind,  till  at  last, 
of  all  things  which  they  had  waked  to  life,  she  appeared  the  fairest. 

"Reuben  had  gradually  made  her  the  chief  end  of  his  existence,  and 
she  certainly  merited  this  absolute  concentration  of  her  father's  love. 
But,  notwithstanding  that  at  this  time  Jews  and  Christians  dwelt  to- 
gether unmolested  by  the  Mohammedan  rule,  the  inborn  hostility  be- 
tween these  two  orders  underwent  no  abatement.  Intercourse  between 
them  was  sedulously  avoided  by  each,  and  the  springing  up  of  any  shy 
flower  of  love  between  man  and  maid  of  such  hostile  races  was  sure  to 
be  followed  by  deadly  blight  and  ruin.  Nevertheless — and  how  it  hap- 
pened who  can  say? — Raquel,  already  ripened  by  the  rich  sun  of  her 
native  land  into  a  perfected  womanhood,  fell  in  love  with  a  young 
Christian  cavalier,  who  had  himself  surrendered  to  her  silent  and  dis- 
tant beauty  as  it  shone  upon  him,  while  passing,  from  her  grated  win- 
dow in  Reuben's  stately  mansion.  He  learned  her  name,  and  spoke  it 
to  her  from  the  street  —  'Raquel!'  —  at  twilight.  So  trembling  and 
brimming  with  mutual  love  were  they,  that  this  one  word,  like  the  last 
o'erflowing  drop  of  precious  liquid  from  a  vase,  was  enough  to  reveal  to 
her  what  filled  his  heart.  As  she  heard  it  she  blushed  as  though  it  had 
been  a  kiss  that  he  had  reverently  impressed  upon  her  cheek;  and  this 
was  answer  enough  —  their  secret  and  perilous  courtship  had  begun. 
Thereafter  they  met  often  at  night  in  the  great  garden  attached  to  the 
house,  making  their  rendezvous  at  the  low-walled  well  that  stood  in  a 
thicket  of  fragrant  greenery.  At  last,  through  the  prying  of  an  aged 
friend,  his  daughter's  passion  came  to  the  knowledge  of  old  Reuben, 
who  had  never  till  then  even  conceived  of  such  disgrace  as  her  being 
enamoured  of  a  Christian.  His  course  was  prompt  and  terrible.  Con- 
cealing himself  one  evening  behind  a  tree-trunk  close  to  the  well,  he 
awaited  the  coming  of  the  daring  cavalier,  sprung  upon  him,  and  after 
a  short,  noiseless  struggle  bore  him  down  with  a  poniard  in  his  breast ! 

"  The  stealthy  opening  of  a  door  into  the  garden  warned  him  of  Ra- 
quel's  approach.  He  hastened  again  into  concealment.  She  arrived,  saw 
her  fallen  lover,  dropped  at  his  side  in  agonies  of  terror,  and  sought  to 
revive  him.  Then  she  saw  and  by  the  moonlight  recognized  her  fa- 
ther's dagger  in  the  breathless  bosom  of  the  young  man,  and  knew  what 
had  happened.  Moved  by  sudden  remorse,  Reuben  came  out  with  words 
of  consolation  ready.  But  she  knew  him  not,  she  heard  him  not ;  from 
that  instant  madness  was  in  her  eyes  and  brain.  Many  months  she 
haunted  the  spot  at  night,  calm  but  hopelessly  insane,  and  weeping 
silently  at  the  margin  of  the  well,  into  whose  waters  her  salt  tears  de- 


THE   LOST   CITY.  G5 

scended.  At  length  there  came  a  night  when  she  did  not  return  to  the 
house.  She  had  thrown  herself  into  the  well  and  was  found  there- 
dead  ! 

"  Never  again  could  any  one  drink  its  waters,  which  had  been  famous 
for  their  quality.     Raquel's  tears  of  sorrow  had  turned  them  bitter." 

The  other  legend  is  still  more  marvellous:  "In  the  reign  of  En- 
rique IV.  of  Spain  there  was  fierce  rivalry  between  two  Toledan  fami- 
lies, the  Silvas  and  the  Ayalas,  which  in  1467  led  to  open  warfare.  The 
Silvas  threw  themselves  into  the  castle,  and  the  Ayalas  held  the  cathe- 
dral— the  blood  shed  in  their  combats  staining  the  very  feet  of  its  altars. 
During  this  struggle  of  hatred  there  was  also  a  struggle  of  love  going 
on  between  two  younger  members  of  the  embroiled  families.  Diego 
de  Ayala,  setting  at  naught  the  pride  of  his  house,  had  given  his  heart 
to  Isabel,  the  daughter  of  a  poor  hidalgo;  but  it  so  happened  that  his 
enemy,  Don  Lope  de  Silva,  had  resolved  to  win  the  same  maiden, 
though  receiving  no  encouragment  from  her.  One  night  when  the 
combatants  were  resting  on  their  arms,  and  the  whole  city  was  in  dis- 
order, Don  Lope  succeeded  in  entering  Isabel's  house  with  several  of 
his  followers  and  carried  her  off— trusting  to  the  general  confusion  to 
prevent  interruption.  As  they  were  bearing  her  away  across  a  little 
square  in  front  of  the  Church  of  San  Justo,  Don  Diego,  on  his  way  to 
see  Isabel,  encountered  them. 

"'Leave  that  woman,  ye  cowards,  and  go  your  way!"  he  command- 
ed, with  drawn  sword.  And  at  that  instant,  by  the  light  of  the  lamp 
which  burned  before  the  pictured  Christ  of  Compassion  on  the  church 
wall,  he  recognized  Isabel  and  Don  Lope. 

"  Making  a  bold  dash,  he  succeeded  in  freeing  Isabel  and  getting  her 
into  the  shelter  of  an  angle  in  the  wall,  just  below  the  holy  figure.  But 
being  there  hemmed  in  by  his  adversaries,  he  felt  himself,  after  a  sharp 
fight  in  which  he  dealt  numerous  wounds,  fainting  from  the  severe 
thrusts  he  had  himself  received.  Fearing  that  he  was  mortally  hurt, 
he  raised  his  eyes  to  the  shrine  and  prayed:  'O  God,  not  for  me,  but 
for  her,  manifest  thy  pity!     I  am  willing  to  die,  but  save  her!' 

"  Then  a  marvellous  brilliance  streamed  out  from  the  thorn-crowned 
head,  and  instantly,  propelled  by  some  unseen  force,  Diego  found  him- 
self and  Isabel  pushed  through  the  solid  wall  behind  them,  which  open- 
ed to  receive  them  into  the  sanctuary,  and  closed  again  to  keep  out  the 
assassins.  Don  Lope  rushed  forward  in  pursuit,  and  in  his  rage  hacked 
the  stones  with  his  sword  as  if  to  cut  his  way  through.     The  marks 

5 


66  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

made  in  the  stone  by  his  weapon  are  still  to  be  seen  there."  The  com- 
passionate face  still  looks  down  from  the  shrine,  and  little  sign-boards 
announce  indulgences  to  those  who  pray  there:  "Senor  Don  Luis 
Maria  de  Borbon,  most  Illustrious  Senor  Bishop  of  Carista,  grants  forty 
daws'  indulgence  to  all  who  with  grief  for  their  sins  say,  'Lord  have 
mercy  on  me!'  or  make  the  acts  of  Faith,  Charity,  and  Hope  before  this 
image,  praying  for  the  necessities  of  the  Church." 

Altogether  I  computed  that  a  good  Catholic  could  by  a  half-hour's 
industry  secure  immunity  for  two  hundred  and  twenty  days,  or  nearly 
two-thirds  of  a  year.  It  is  to  be  feared  that  the  Toledans  are  too  lazy 
to  profit  even  by  this  splendid  chance. 

The  majority  of  people  here  who  can  command  a  daily  income  of 
ten  cents  will  do  no  work.  Numbers  of  the  inhabitants  are  always 
standing  or  leaning  around  drowsily,  like  animals  who  have  been  hired 
to  personate  men,  and  are  getting  tired  of  the  job.  Every  act  ap- 
proaching labor  must  be  done  with  long-drawn  leisure.  Men  and  boys 
slumber  out-of-doors  even  in  the  hot  sun,  like  dogs ;  after  sitting  medi- 
tatively against  a  wall  for  a  while,  one  of  them  will  tumble  over  on  his 
nose as  if  he  were  a  statue  undermined  by  time — and  remain  in  mo- 
tionless repose  wherever  he  happens  to  strike.  Business  with  the  trad- 
ing class  itself  is  an  incident,  and  resting  is  the  essence  of  the  mundane 
career. 

Nevertheless,  the  place  has  fits  of  activity.  When  the  mid -day 
siesta  is  over  there  is  a  sudden  show  of  doing  something.  Men  begin 
to  trot  about  with  a  springy,  cat-like  motion,  acquired  from  always 
walking  up  and  down  hill,  which,  taken  with  their  short  loose  blouses, 
dark  skins,  and  roomy  canvas  slippers,  gives  them  an  astonishing  like- 
ness to  Chinamen."  The  slip  and  scramble  of  mule  hoofs  and  donkey 
hoofs  are  heard  on  the  steep  pavements,  and  two  or  three  loud-voiced, 
lusty  men,  with  bare  arms,  carrying  a  capacious  tin  can  and  a  dipper, 
go  roaring  through  the  torrid  streets, "  Hor-cha-ta  !"  Then  the  cathe- 
dral begins  wildly  pounding  its  bells,  all  out  of  tune,  for  vespers.  The 
energy  which  has  broken  loose  for  a  couple  of  hours  is  discovered  to  be 
a  mistake,  and  another  interval  of  relaxation  sets  in,  lasting  through  the 
night,  and  until  the  glare  of  fiery  daybreak,  greeted  by  the  shrill  whis- 
tling of  the  remorseless  pet  quail,  sets  the  insect-like  stir  going  again 
for  a  short  time  in  the  forenoon.     Because  of  such  apathy,  and  of  a 


*  In  this  connection  it  is  curious  to  observe  that  the  Toledan  peasants,  like  the  Chinese, 
confound  the  letters  r  and  /—as  when  they  say  flol  lorjljr,  "flower." 


THE    LOST    CITY. 


CT 


more  than  the  usual  Latin  disregard  for  public  decency,  the  streets  and 
houses  are  allowed  to  become  pestilential,  and  drainage  is  unknown. 
Enervating  luxury  of  that  sort  did  well  enough  for  the  Romans  and 
Moors,  but  is  literally  below  the  level  of  Castilian  ideas.  In  the  midst 
of  the  most  sublime  emotion  aroused  by  the  associations  or  grim  beauty 
of  Toledo,  you  are  sure  to  be  stopped  short  by  some  intolerable  odor. 


MEN    AND    BOYS    SLUMBER    OUT-OF-DOORS    EVEN    IN    THE    HOT    SUN. 


The  primate  city  was  endowed  with  enough  of  color  and  quaintness 
almost  to  compensate  for  this.  We  never  tired  of  the  graceful  women 
walking  the  streets  vestured  in  garments  of  barbaric  tint  and  endlessly 
varied  ornamentation,  nor  of  the  men  in  short  breeches  split  at  the  bot- 
tom, who  seemed  to  have  splashed  pots  of  vari-colored  paint  at  hap-haz- 
ard  over  their  clothes,  and  insisted  upon  balancing  on  their  heads  broad- 


68 


SPANISH    VISTAS. 


brimmed,  pointed  hats,  like  a  combination  of  sieve  and  inverted  funnel. 
There   was   a   spark   of  excitement,  again,  in   the   random   entry   of   a 


•J  w 


'v 


A    STRANGE   FUNERAL. 

"guard  of  the  country,"  mounted  on  his  emblazoned  donkey-saddle, 
with  a  small  arsenal  in  his  waist  sash,  and  a  couple  of  guns  slung  behind 
on  the  beast's  flanks,  ready  for  marauders.  Even  now  in  remembrance 
the  blots  on  Toledo  fade,  and  I  see  its  walls  and  towers  throned  grand- 
ly amid  those  hills  that  were  mingled  of  white  powder  and  fire  at  noon- 
tide, but  near  evening  cooled  themselves  down  to  olive  and  russet  cit- 
ron, with  burning  rosy  shadows  resting  in  the  depressions. 

One  of  the  first  spectacles  that  presented  itself  to  us  will  remain 
also  one  of  the  latest  recollections.  Between  San  Juan  de  Ios  Reyes 
and  the  palace  of  Roderick  we  met  unexpectedly  a  crowd  of  boys  and 
girls,  followed  by  a  few  men,  all  carrying  lighted  candles  that  glowed 
spectrally,  for  the  sun  was  still  half  an  hour  high  in  the  west.  A  stout 
priest,  with  white  hair  and  a  vinous  complexion,  had  just  gone  down 
the   street,  and   this  motley  group  was   following   the   same  direction. 


THE    LOST   CITY. 


69 


Somewhat  in  advance  walked  a  boy  with  a  small  black  and  white  coffin, 
held  in  place  on  his  head  by  his  upraised  arm,  as  if  it  were  a  toy;  and 
in  the  midst  of  the  candle-bearers  moved  a  light  bier  like  a  basket- 
cradle,  carried  by  girls,  and  containing  the  small  waxen  form  of  a  dead 
child  three  or  four  years  old,  on  whose  impassive,  colorless  face  the 
orange  glow  of  approaching  sunset  fell,  producing  an  effect  natural  yet 
incongruous.  A  scampering  dog  accompanied  the  mourners,  if  one 
may  call  them  such,  for  they  gave  no  token  of  being  more  impressed, 
more  touched  by  emotion,  than  he.  The  cradle-bier  swayed  from  side 
to  side  as  if  with  a  futile  rockaby  motion,  until  the  bearers  noticed  how 
carelessly  they  were  conveying  it  down  the  paved  slope  ;  and  the  mem- 
bers of  the  procession  talked  to  each  other  with  a  singular  indifference, 
or  looked  at  anything  which  caught  their  random  attention.  As  the 
little  rabble  disappeared  through  the  Puerta  del  Cambron,  with  their 
long  candles  dimly  flaming,  and  the  solemn,  childish  face  in  their  midst, 
followed  by  the  poor  unconscious  dog,  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  beheld 
in  allegory  the  departure  from  Toledo  of  that  spirit  of  youth  whose 
absence  leaves  it  so  old  and  worn. 


'/***"*;s^w 


SPANISH    VISTAS. 


CORDOVAN  PILGRIMS. 

I. 

HE  House  of  Purification,  as  the 
great  mosque  at  Cordova  was  call- 
ed, used  to  be  a  goal  of  pilgrimage 
for  the  Moors  in  Spain,  as  Mecca 
was  for  Mohammedans  elsewhere. 
Their  shoes  no  longer  repose  at  its 
doors,  but  other  less  devout  pil- 
grims now  come  in  a  straggling 
procession  from  all  quarters  of  the 
globe  to  rest  a  while  within  its  fair 
demesne  —  hallowed,  perhaps,  as 
much  by  the  unique  flowering  of  a 
whole  people's  genius  in  shapes  of 
singular  loveliness  as  by  the  more 
direct  religious  service  to  which  it 
has  been  dedicated  and  re-dedicat- 
ed under  conflicting  beliefs. 

It  was  with  peculiar  eagerness, 
therefore,  that  we  set  out  on  our 
way.  An  American  who  was  following  the  same  route  had  joined  us — 
a  man  with  ruddy,  bronzed  cheeks  and  iron-gray  hair,  whom  I  at  first 
should  have  taken  for  the  great-grandson  of  a  Spanish  Inquisitor,  if  such 
a  thing  were  possible.  His  iron  persistence  and  the  intensity  of  his 
prejudices  were  in  keeping  with  that  character — the  only  trouble  being 
that  the  prejudices  were  all  on  the  wrong  side.  Whetstone  (as  he  was 
called)  shared  our  eagerness  in  respect  of  Cordova,  though  from  differ- 
ent motives.  He  hailed  each  new  point  in  his  journey  with  satisfac- 
tion, because  it  would  get  him  so  much  nearer  the  end  ;  for  the  reason 
he  had  come  to  Spain  was,  apparently,  to  get  out  of  it  again.  "  I  don't 
sec  what  I  came  to  Spain  for,"  Whetstone  would  observe  to  us,  dis- 


CORDOVAN    PILGRIMS. 


1 


mally;  and,  for  that  matter,  we  could  not  sec  either.  "If  there  ever 
was  a  God-forsaken  country—  Why,  look  at  the  way  a  whole  parcel 
of  these  men  at  the  dinner-table  get  out  their  cigarettes  and  smoke 
right  there,  without  ever  asking  a  lady's  leave  !  I'd  like  to  see  'em  try 
it  on  at  home!  Wouldn't  they  be  just  snaked  out  of  that  room  pretty 
quick?"  He  had  under  his  care  a  young  lady  of  great  sensibility,  a  rela- 
tive by  marriage,  accompanied  by  her  maid  ;  and  the  maid  was  a  colored 
woman  of  the  most  pronounced  pattern.  Altogether  our  pilgrim  party 
embraced  a  good  deal  of  variety.  The  young  American  girl,  being  a 
Catholic,  was  really  a  palmer  faring  from  shrine  to  shrine.  Rarely  a 
convent  or  a  chapel  escaped  her;  she  sipped  them  all  as  if  they  had 
been  flower- cups  and  she  a  humming-bird,  and  managed  to  extract 
some  unknown  honey  of  comfort  from  their  bitterness.  It  was  like 
having  a  novice  with  us. 

The  night  journeys  by  rail,  so'  much  in  vogue  in  Spain,  have  their 
advantages  and  their  drawbacks.  At  Castillejo,  a  junction  on  the  way  to 
Cordova,  we  had  to  wait  four  hours  in  the  evening 
at  a  distance  of  twenty  miles  from  the  nearest  res- 
taurant. The  country  around  was  absolutely  deso- 
late except  for  tufts  of  the  rctanic — a  sort  of  broom 
with  slim  green  and  silvered  leaves,  which  grows 
wild,  and,  after  drying,  is  used  by  the  peasants  as  a 
substitute  for  rye  or  wheat  flour.  Only  two  or  three 
houses  were  in  sight.  The  tracks  with  cars  stand- 
ing on  them,  and  the  unfinished  look  of  the  whole 
place,  made  us  feel  as  if  we  had  by  mistake  been 
carried  off  to  some  insignificant  railroad  station  in 
Illinois  or  Missouri.  The  only  resource  available 
for  dinner  was  a  cantineria,  or  drinking-room,  where 
a  few  blocks  of  tough  bread  lent  respectability  to 
a  lot  of  loaferish  wine-bottles,  and  some  uninviting 
sausages  were  hung  in  gloomy  festoons,  with  a  sus- 
picious air  of  being  a  permanent  architectural  fixt- 
ure intended  as  a  perch  for  flies.  The  Spaniards 
invent  little  rhymed  proverbs  about  many  of  their  villages,  and  of  one 
insignificant  Andalusian  hamlet,  Brenes,  the  saying  is, 


WHETSTONE. 


"If  to  Brenes  thou  goest, 
Take  with  thee  thy  roast." 


But  Castillejo  seems  to  be  an   equally  good  subject  for  this  warning. 


i-2 


SPANISH   VISTAS. 


We  recalled  how  lavishly,  on  the  way  to  Toledo,  we  had  presented 
bread,  meat,  and  strawberries  to  some  country  folk  who  were  not  in  the 
habit  of  eating-,  and  how  ardently  they  had  thanked  us.  As  we  passed 
their  house  in  returning  it  was  closed  and  lifeless,  and  we  were  con- 
vinced that  they  had  died  of  a  surfeit.     How  willingly  would  we  now 


COFFEE   AT    CASTILLEJO. 

have  undone  that  deed  !  However,  after  making  some  purchases  from 
an  extremely  deaf  old  woman  who  presided  over  such  poor  supplies  as 
the  place  afforded,  we  asked  her  if  she  could  have  coffee  prepared.  "  If 
there  is  enough  in  the  house,"  she  replied  to  our  interrogatory  shrieks. 
Accordingly,  we  carried  a  table  out  under  some  trees  on  the  gravel 
platform,  to  eat  al  fresco. 

When  we  found  ourselves  in  this  way  for  the  first  time  thrown  back 
on  the  Spanish  sausage,  we  resisted  that  unsympathetic  substance  with 
all  the  vigor  of  despair.  Rut,  aided  by  some  bad  wine,  an  interesting 
conversation  with  the  Novice,  and  the  glow  of  a  sunset  sky  that  looked 
as   if  strewn  with  fading  peony  petals,  we  recovered   from   the  shock 


CORDOVAN    PILGRIMS.  73 

caused  in  the  beginning  by  a  mingled  flavor  of  garlic,  raisins,  and  pork. 
In  truth,  there  was  something  enjoyable  about  this  wild  supper  around 
which  our  quartette  gathered  in  the  dry,  dewless  twilight.  An  ancient 
female,  resembling  a  broken-down  Medea,  came  out  and  kindled  a  fire 
of  brushwood  beyond  the  track,  swung  a  kettle  there,  and  cooked  our 
coffee,  bending  over  the  flame-light  the  while  with  her  scattered  gray 
tresses,  and  wailing  out  doleful  peteneras,  the  popular  songs  of  Spain. 
The  songs,  the  fire,  the  wine,  the  strange  scene,  were  so  stimulating 
that  we  were  surprised  to  find  all  at  once  the  dark  vault  overhead  full 
of  stars,  the  comet  staring  at  us  in  its  flight  above  the  hills,  and  our 
ten-o'clock  train  nearly  due. 

The  next  morning  we  were  in  a  region  totally  unlike  anything  we 
had  seen  before,  excepting  for  the  ever-present  mountain  ranges  wild  as 
the- Pyrenees  or  Guadaramas.  The  light  of  dawn  on  these  barren  Span- 
ish mountain-sides,  drawn  up  into  peaks  as  sharp  as  the  points  of  a 
looped-up  curtain,  produces  effects  indescribable  except  on  canvas  and 
by  a  subtle  colorist.  The  bare  surfaces  of  rock  or  dry  grass  and  moss, 
and  the  newly  reaped  harvest  fields  lower  down,  blend  the  tints  of  air 
and  earth  in  a  velvet-smooth  succession  of  madder  and  faint  yellow, 
olive  and  rose  and  gray,  fading  off  into  a  reddish- violet  at  greater 
distances. 

These  eminences  are  a  part  of  the  Sierra  Morena,  where  Don 
Quixote  achieved  some  of  his  most  noteworthy  feats—the  liberation  of 
the  galley-slaves,  the  descent  into  the  Cave  of  Montesinos,  the  capture 
of  Mambrino's  helmet,  and  the  famous  penance.  So  weird  is  the  aspect 
of  these  desolate  hills,  enclosing  silent  valleys  in  which  narrow  tracts  of 
woods  are  harbored,  that  I  suspected  it  would  be  easy  to  breed  a  few 
Don  Quixotes  of  reality  there.  Craziness  would  become  a  necessary 
diversion  to  relieve  the  monotony  of  existence. 

A  winding  river-bed  near  by  was  bordered  by  tufted  copses  of 
oleander  in  full  flower,  and  hedges  of  huge  serrated  aloe  guarded  the 
roads.  On  the  hill-sides  a  round  corral  for  herds  would  occasionally  be 
seen.  In  the  fields  the  time-honored  method  of  threshing  out  grain  by 
driving  a  sort  of  heavy  board  sledge  in  a  circle  over  the  cut  crop,  and 
of  winnowing  by  tossing  up  shovelfuls  of  the  grain-dust  into  the  breezy 
air,  was  in  active  operation.  By-and-by  the  olive  orchards  began.  As 
far  as  we  could  see  they  stretched  on  either  side  their  ranks  of  round 
dusty  green  tree-heads.  Thousands  of  acres  of  them— one  grove  after 
another:  we  travelled  through  fifty  miles  of  almost  unbroken  olive 
plantations,  until    we    fancied   we   could    even   smell   the   fruit   on   the 


SPANISH    VISTAS. 


PRIMITIVE    THRASHING. 


boughs,  and  our  eyes  were  sick  and  weary  with  the  sameness  of  the 
sight.  Then  the  river,  which  from  time  to  time  had  shown  its  muddy 
current  in  curves  and  sweeps,  moving  through  the  land  at  the  bottom 
of  what  might  have  been  an  enormous  drain,  turned  out  to  be  the  fa- 
mous Guadalquivir,  which,  as  Ford  vividly  puts  it,  "eats  its  dull  way 
through  loamy  banks."  At  last  Cordova,  seated  in  an  ample  plain- 
Cordova,  in  vanished  ages  the  home  of  Seneca,  Lucan,  Averroes,  and 
the  poet  Juan  de  Mena— Cordova,  white  in  the  dry  and  gritty  sun-daz- 
zled air,  with  square,  unshadowed  two-story  houses,  overlooked  by  the 
bell-tower  of  its  incomparable  Mezquita  Cathedral :  a  cheerful  Southern 
city,  maintaining  large  gardens,  abounding  in  palms  and  myrtles  and 
orange  and  lemon  trees ;  possessing,  moreover,  clean  streets  of  percep- 
tible width. 

After  the  "interpreter,"  or  hotel  guide,  the  beggar:  such  is  the  or- 
der in  these  Spanish  towns,  and  not  seldom  the  guide  is  merely  a  bold- 
er kind  of  beggar.  Two  or  three  of  the  most  frantically  miserable  and 
loathsome  charity-seekers  I  ever  saw  surrounded  our  omnibus  as  we 
awaited  our  baggage,  and  stuffed  their  hideous  heads  in  at  the  windows 


CORDOVAN    PILGRIMS. 


<o 


and  door,  concentrating  on  us  their  fire  of  appeals.  Velveteen  had 
heard  that  the  sovereign  remedy  for  these  pests  was  to  treat  them  with 
consummate  politeness  and  piety.  "  Pardon  me,  brother,  for  God's 
sake  !"  was  the  deprecatory  formula  which  had  been  recommended,  and 
he  now  proceeded  to  recite  this,  book  in  hand.  Unfortunately  it  took 
him  about  five  minutes  to  get  it  launched  in  good  style  and  pure  Span- 
ish, during  which  time  the  beggars  had  an  opportunity  entirely  to  miss 
the  sense.  A  few  grains  of  tobacco  dropped  into  the  hat  of  one  of 
them  were  more  efficacious,  for  they  had  the  result  of  mystifying  him 


WHILE    THE    WOMEN    ARE    AT    MASS 


and  hopelessly   paralyzing  his   analytical   powers.      Finally   the  guide, 
coming  with  the  baggage,  recognized  his  rivals,  and  drove  them  off. 


TO  SPANISH   VISTAS. 

At  several  places  on  the  way  we  had  seen  our  twin  military  persecu- 
tors waiting  for  us,  sometimes  with  white  havelocks,  and  again  in  glazed 
hat-covers  and  capes.  "Are  they  disguising  themselves,  so  as  to  fall 
upon  us  unawares?"  I  asked  my  friend.  We  determined  not  to  be  de- 
ceived, however,  by  the  subtle  device.  These  Spanish  police-soldiers 
go  through  more  metamorphoses  in  the  linen  and  water-proof  line  than 
any  troops  I  know.  It  must  be  excessively  inconvenient  to  run  home 
and  make  the  change  every  time  a  slight  shower  threatens  ;  and  inva- 
riably, as  soon  as  they  get  on  their  storm-cover,  the  sun  begins  to  shine 
again.  On  our  arrival  they  seemed  to  have  made  up  their  minds  to 
arrest  us  at  once  ;  they  came  striding  along  toward  us  in  duplicate, 
one  the  fac-simile  of  the  other,  and  we  gave  ourselves  up  for  lost.  But 
just  as  they  were  within  a  few  paces,  their  unaccountable  policy  of  de- 
lay caused  them  to  deviate  suddenly,  and  march  on  as  if  they  hadn't 
seen  us.     "  One  more  escape  !"  sighed  Velveteen,  fervently. 

Strangely  enough,  the  languor  which  we  had  left  in  the  middle  of 
the  kingdom,  at  Toledo,  was  replaced  in  this  more  tropical  latitude  by 
great  activity.  The  shop  streets  presented  a  series  of  rooms  entirely 
open  to  the  view,  where  men  and  women  were  busily  engaged  in  all 
sorts  of  small  manufacture  —  shoes,  garments,  tin -work,  carpentering. 
They  were  happy  and  diligent,  as  if  they  had  been  animated  writing- 
book  maxims,  and  sung  or  whistled  at  their  tasks  in  a  most  exemplary 
manner. 

"Cordovan  leather"  still  holds  it  own,  on  a  petty  scale,  and  the 
small  cups  hammered  out  of  old  silver  dollars  constitute,  with  filigree 
silver-work,  a  characteristic  local  product.  The  faces  of  the  people  be- 
trayed their  gypsy  blood  oftentimes,  and  there  was  one  street  chiefly 
occupied  by  the  Romany  folk.  Traces  of  blond  or  light  chestnut  hair 
showed  that  the  Moorish  stock  had  likewise  left  some  offshoots  that  do 
not  die  out.  The  whole  aspect  of  Cordova  presents  at  once  a  reflex  of 
the  refined  and  enlightened  spirit  of  the  ancient  caliphate.  Everybody, 
including  most  of  the  beggars,  has  a  fresh  and  cleanly  appearance;  the 
very  priests  undergo  a  change,  being  frequently  more  refined  in  feature 
and  of  a  more  tolerant  expression  than  those  of  the  North.  The  wom- 
en set  off  their  rosy  brown  complexions  and  black  hair  with  clusters  of 
rayed  jasmine  blossoms,  flattened  and  ingeniously  fixed  in  rosette  form 
on  long  pins.  The  men,  discarding  those  hot  felt  hats  so  obstinately 
worn  in  the  central  provinces,  make  a  comfortable  and  festive  appear- 
ance in  their  curling  Panamas.  On  the  Street  of  the  Great  Captain — 
the  chief  open-air  resort,  commemorating  Gonsalvo  of  Cordova,  who  led 


W  A  1  ER-STAND    IN    CORDOVA. 


CORDOVAN    PILGRIMS. 


79 


so  ably  in  the  triumphant  Christian  campaigns — the  people  laugh  and 
chat  as  if  they  really  enjoyed  life.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  wealth  in 
the  place,  and  the  lingering  atmosphere  of  its  past  greatness  is  not  de- 
pressing, as  that  of  Toledo  is,  for  it  was  never  the  home  of  bigotry  and 
ignorance.  Its  prosperous  epoch  under  Abdur-rahman  and  his  Om- 
meyad  successors  was  one  of  brilliant  civilization.  It  was  then  a  nurs- 
ery of  science  and  the  arts;  its  inhabitants  numbered  a  million.  It  had 
mosques  by  the  hundred,  and  nearly  a  thousand  baths— for  the  Spanish 
Moors  well  knew  the  civilizing  virtue  of  water,  and  kept  life-giving 
streams  of  it  running  at  the  roots  of  their  institutions.     The  houses  of 


i       l"  •--    '         !       i    ")  , 


iMS 


tr>~-~ 


*■>} 


f\r:^^yl 


THE    GAY    COSTER-MONGERS    OF    ANDALUSIA 


the  modern  city  are  very  plain  on  the  exterior,  and  their  common  coat 
of  whitewash  imparts  to  them  a  democratic  equality,  though  aristocracy 
is  still  a  living  thing  there,  instead  of  having  sunk  into  pitfalls  of  squa- 
lor and  idleness,  as  in  the  sombre  city  by  the  Tagus. 

"But  now  the  Cross  is  sparkling  on  the  mosque, 
And  bells  make  Catholic  the  trembling  air." 

Gloomy  little  churches  crop  out  in  every  quarter,  and  a  few  convents 
of  nuns  remain,  where  you  may  hear  the  faint,  sad  litany  of  the  unseen 
sisters  murmured  behind  the  grating,  while  a  priest  chants  service  for 
them  in  the  lonely  chapel.  The  bells  of  these  churches  and  of  the 
mosque-cathedral  are  hardly  ever  silent ;  the  brazen  jargon  of  their 
tongues   echoes  over  the  roofs   at  all   hours,  and   the   hollow,  metallic 


so 


SPANISH   VISTAS. 


THE   MEZQU1TA. 

tinkle  of  mule-bells  from  the  otherwise  silent  streets  at  times  strikes 
one  as  making  response  to  them.  The  beauty  of  the  cathedral— still 
called  the  Mezquita  (mosque)— lies  almost  solely  in  the  preservation  of 
its  original  Moorish  architecture. 

The   site  was  first  occupied  as  a  place  of  worship  by  the  Roman 
Temple   of   Janus,  and  this   in   turn  became   a   basilica   of    the    Gothic 


CORDOVAN    PILGRIMS. 


81 


Christians.  Abdur-rahman,  after  the  Christians  had  long  been  allowed 
by  the  caliphs  to  continue  their  worship  in  one  half  of  the  basilica, 
reared  the  supremely  wonderful  House  of  Purification  as  it  now  stands  ; 


wU 


RELIC   PEDDLERS. 

and  then,  after  the  conquest  by  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  in  the  reign  of 
Charles  V.,  the  cumbrous  high  altar  and  choir,  which  choke  up  so  much 
of  the  interior,  transformed  it  once  more  into  a  stronghold  of  Christian 
ceremonial.  But  when  you  enter  at  the  Gate  of  Pardon  the  long,  wide 
Court  of  Oranges,  you  find  yourself  transported  instantly  to  Moham- 
medan surroundings;  you  are  under  the  dominion  of  the  Ommeyades. 

High  walls  hem  in  this  open-air  vestibule,  where  rows  of  orange- 
trees  rustle  their  dense  foliage  in  the  warm  wind.  Their  trunks  are 
corpulent  with  age,  for  some  of  them  date  back  to  the  last  Moorish 
dynasty,  and  at  one  end  stands  the  tank  where  followers  of  the  Prophet 

6 


82  SPANISH   VISTAS. 

washed  themselves  before  entering  in  to  pray.  The  Gate  of  Pardon, 
under  the  high-spired  bell-tower,  takes  its  name  from  the  custom  which 
obtained  of  giving  criminals  refuge  by  its  portal.  The  murderer  who 
could  fly  hither  and  gain  the  central  aisle  of  the  temple,  directly  oppo- 
site the  gate  across  the  court,  was  safe  for  shelter  by  the  Mihrab,  or 
inner  shrine,  at  the  farther  end  of  the  aisle.  All  the  nineteen  aisles 
formerly  opened  from  the  fragrant  garden,  though  Catholic  rule  gives 
access  by  only  three;  but  inside  one  sees  at  a  glance  the  vast  conse- 
crated space  which  was  so  freely  open  to  the  Mussulmans — an  interior 
covering  several  acres,  not  very  lofty,  yet  imposing  from  its  exquisite 
proportions.  A  wilderness,  a  cool,  dark  labyrinth  of  pillars  from  which 
light  horseshoe  arches  rise,  broken  midway  for  the  curve  of  another 
arch  surmounting  each  of  these,  spreads  itself  out  under  the  roof  on 
every  hand — grove  of  stone  in  a  cave  of  stone  stretching  so  far  that 
the  eye  cannot  follow  its  intricate  regularity,  its  rare  harmony  of  confu- 
sion. The  rash  Christian  renovators  who,  overruling  the  protest  of  the 
city,  undertook  to  remodel  so  exceptional  a  monument,  covered  the 
arches  with  whitewash  ;  but  many  of  them  have  been  restored  to  the 
natural  hues  of  their  red  and  white  marble.  Imagine  below  them  the 
pillars,  smooth-shafted  and  with  fretted  capitals.  Of  old  there  were 
twelve  hundred  of  them  supporting  the  gilded  beams  and  incorruptible 
larch  of  the  roof,  and  a  thousand  still  stand.  Each  is  shaped  from  a 
single  block,  and  many  quarries  contributed  them.  Jasper  and  por- 
phyry, black,  white,  and  red,  emerald  and  rose  marble,  are  all  represented 
among  them  ;  though  with  their  diversity  they  have  this  in  common, 
that  from  the  pavement  up  to  about  the  average  human  height  they 
have  been  worn  dark,  and  even  smoother  than  the  workmen  left  them, 
by  the  constant  touching  and  rubbing  and  leaning  of  generations  who 
have  loitered  and  worshipped  in  the  solemn  twilight  that  broods  around 
them.  A  large  number  were  appropriated  from  the  old  Roman  temple 
which  stood  on  the  spot ;  others  were  plundered  from  temples  at  an- 
cient Carthage  ;  still  others  were  brought  entire  from  Constantinople. 
They  typify  the  different  powers  that  have  been  concerned  in  the 
making  and  unmaking  of  Spain,  and  one  could  almost  imagine  that  in 
every  column  is  concealed  some  petrified  warrior  of  those  conflicting 
races,  waiting  for  the  spell  that  shall  bring  him  to  life  again. 

On  the  surface  of  one  of  these  marble  cylinders  is  scratched  a  rude 
and  feeble  image  of  Christ  on  the  cross,  hardly  noticeable  until  pointed 
out.  It  is  said  to  have  been  traced  there  by  the  finger-nail  of  a  Chris- 
tian captive  who  was  chained  to  the  pillar  when  it  formed  part  of  a 


THE   GARDEN    OF   THE   ALCAZAR. 


CORDOVAN    PILGRIMS. 


85 


PRIEST    AND    PURVEYOR. 


dungeon  somewhere 
else.  He  had  ten 
years  for  the  work, 
and  enjoyed  the  ad- 
vantage of  a  tool 
that  would  renew  it- 
self without  expense 
whenever  it  began 
to  wear  out.  I  must 
say  that  we  were 
touched  by  this  dim 
record  of  the  dead- 
and-gone  prisoner's 
silent  suffering  and 
faith.  The  shock  of 
doubt  struck  us  only 
when,  in  another 
part  of  the  mosque, 
we  came  upon  an- 
other   pillar    against 

the  wall,  bearing  an  exact  reproduction  of  the  finger-nail  sculpture,  and 
furthermore  provided  with  a  holy-water  basin  and  a  lamp  burning  un- 
der the  effigy  of  the  captive,  who  appears  to  have  been  canonized. 
"How  is   this?"   I   asked   the  guide.     "Here   is   the   same  thing  over 

again  !"  He  scrutinized  me  care- 
fully, taking  an  exact  measure  of 
my  credulousness,  before  he  re- 
plied, "Ah,  but  the  other  is  the 
real  one !"  It  all  seems  to  de- 
pend on  which  pillar  gets  the 
start. 

But  there  is  no  deception 
whatever  connected  with  the 
inner  Mihrab,  where  there  is  a 
marvellous  alcove  marking  the 
direction  of  Mecca,  on  the  east. 
Its  ceiling,  in  the  shape  of  a  quar- 
ter-globe, is  cut  from  a  single 
great  piece  of  marble,  which  is 
flowers  for  the  market.  grooved  like  a  shell.     And  when 


86  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

the  light  from  candles  is  thrown  into  this  Arab  chapel  it  glances  upon 
elaborate  enamelling  on  the  surface,  the  vitreous  glaze  of  minute  and 
almost  miraculous  mosaic  making  it  flash  and  sparkle  with  rays  of  the 
ruby,  the  emerald,  the  topaz,  and  diamond.  There  in  the  dusk  the 
glittering  splendor  scintillates  as  brilliantly  as  it  did  eight  hundred 
years  ago,  and  shoots  its  beams  upon  the  unwary  eye  as  if  it  were  a 
cimeter  of  the  defeated  race  suddenly  unsheathed  for  vengeance.  In 
this  place  was  kept  the  wondrous  Koran  stand  of  Al-Hakem  II.,  which 
cost  a  sum  equal  now  to  about  five  million  dollars.  It  disappeared  a 
while  ago — mislaid,  it  should  seem,  by  some  sacristan  of  orderly  habits 
who  was  clearing  up  the  rubbish,  for  no  one  appears  to  know  where  it 
vent  to.  The  sacred  book  within  it  was  incased  in  gold  tissue  em- 
broidered with  pearls  and  rubies,  and  around  the  spot  where  it  was  en- 
shrined the  solid  white  marble  floor  is  unevenly  worn  into  a  circular 
hollow,  where  the  servants  of  the  Prophet  used  to  crawl  seven  times  in 
succession  on  their  hands  and  knees.  This  homage  was  paid  by  the 
brother  of  the  Emperor  of  Morocco  only  a  few  years  since,  when  he 
visited  Spain,  and  indulged  the  luxurious  woe  of  weeping  over  the  fair 
empire  his  people  had  lost.  The  bewildering  arabesques,  the  lines  of 
which  pursue  and  lose  each  other  so  mysteriously  about  the  shrine, 
managing  to  form  pious  inscriptions  in  their  intricate  convolutions — 
by  an  exception  to  all  other  Hispano-Arabic  decoration,  which  employs 
only  stucco — are  wrought  in  marble,  frigid  and  stern  as  death,  but  em- 
bossed into  a  living  grace  as  of  vine  tendrils. 

Whetstone  had  been  remarkably  silent  after  entering  the  Mezquita. 
I  fancied  that  he  did  not  wholly  approve  of  it.  But  after  we  had  look- 
ed long  at  this  epitome  of  the  beautiful  which  I  have  just  tried  to 
sketch,  he  observed,  impartially,  in  turning  away,  "I  tell  you,  those 
fellows  knew  how  to  chisel  some!"  He  had  merely  been  trying  to  re- 
duce the  facts  to  their  lowest  terms. 

Priests  and  boys  were  marching  with  crucifixes  from  the  choir  as 
we  came  away ;  the  incense  rolled  up  against  the  lofty  smoke-dimmed 
altar;  and  the  mild-faced  celibate  who  played  the  organ  sent  harmonies 
of  unusually  rich  music  (performed  at  our  guide's  special  request)  re- 
verberating among  the  thousand-columned  maze  of  low  arches.  But 
my  fancy  went  back  to  the  time  when  gold  and  silver  lamps  had  shed 
from  their  perfumed  oils  the  only  illumination  there,  and  when  the  jew- 
elled walls,  smouldering  in  the  faint  light,  had  looked  down  upon  the 
prostrate  forms  of  robed  and  turbaned  zealots.  Then  we  passed  out 
through  the  Court  of  Oranges  into  the  street,  with  those  forty  towers 


CORDOVAN    riLGKI.MS. 


87 


of  the  cathedral  wall  again  seen  standing  guard  around   it,  and  found 
ourselves  once  more  in  modern  Cordova. 

The  breath  of  the  South,  the  meridional  aroma,  welcomed  us.  The 
scent  of  the  air  in  the  neighboring  Alcazar  garden  would  of  itself  have- 
been  enough  to  tell  us,  in  the  dark,  that  we  had  entered  Andalusia. 
That  was  beyond  question  a  most  delectable  spot.  A  sort  of  fortress- 
prison  bordered  it,  and  immediately  on  the  other  side  of  the  prison- 
wall  blossomed  the  garden,  where  lemons  and  oranges  and  bergamot 
clambered  rankly  against  the  bricks,  perfuming  the  whole  atmosphere, 
and  overblown  roses  dropped  from  their  vines  on  to  the  paths.     There 


1 


0  • 


TRAVELLERS   TO    CORDOVA. 


were  hedges  of  rosemary,  and  trees  of  pimento,  and  angular  ribs  of 
prickly  cactus,  carefully  trained.  From  a  balustraded  terrace  higher  up 
descended  a  stone  flight  of  steps,  the  massive  stone  guard  of  which  on 
each  side  was  scooped  out  so  as  to  make  a  mossy  bed  for  two  streams 
of  water  perpetually  flowing  down  and  losing  themselves  in  the  secret 
courses  that  ministered  to  little  scattered  fountains,  or  laved  the  roots 
of  the  verdant  tangle.  Now  and  again  a  lizard  darted  from  point  to 
point,  like  an  evil  thought  surprised  in  the  heart  of  so  much  sweetness 
and  freshness.  Everywhere  there  was  a  cool  gush  and  ripple  of  water, 
and  some  wide-spreading  fig-trees  made  a  pleasant  bower  in  a  bastion 


88  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

of  the  low  garden-wall  overlooking  the  famous  river.  From  this  post 
of  vantage  one  can  see  the  thick  brown  current  slowly  oozing  by,  and 
the  ancient  bridge  which  spans  it,  fortified  at  both  ends,  connecting  the 
Cordova  of  to-day  with  the  opposite  bank,  where  the  ancient  city  ex- 
tended for  two  or  three  miles.  With  its  great  arched  gate,  Roman 
made  and  finely  sculptured,  this  mellow  light  brown  structure  forms 
an  effective  link  in  the  landscape,  and  below  its  piers  stand  several 
[Moorish  mills,  disused,  but  as  yet  unbroken  by  age  or  floods. 

We  drove  across  the  venerable  viaduct  afterward,  and  found  that 
by  an  extraordinary  dispensation  some  very  fresh  and  shining  silver 
coins  of  ancient  Rome  had  lately  been  dug  up  from  one  of  the  shoals 
in  the  river  (a  peculiar  place,  by-the-way,  to  bury  them  in),  and  that  our 
guide  had  some  in  his  pocket.  We  forbore  to  deprive  him  of  such 
treasures,  however,  even  at  the  very  trifling  price  which  he  put  upon 
them,  and  contented  ourselves  with  being  swindled  by  him  in  a  subse- 
quent purchase  of  some  other  articles. 

II. 

From  Cordova  may  be  made,  by  those  who  are  especially  favored, 
one  of  the  most  interesting  expeditions  possible  to  the  Hermitage,  or, 
as  the  Church  authorities  name  it,  the  Dcsicrta  (desert)  of  solitary 
monks,  genuine  anchorites,  a  few  miles  distant  in  the  Sierra  Morena. 
There  are  obstacles  more  formidable  than  the  purely  physical  ones  in 
the  way  of  this  excursion,  the  bishop  of  the  diocese  being  averse  to 
granting  permission  for  the  visit  to  any  one  who  is  not  a  good  Cath- 
olic. Two  Englishmen  who  came  before  us,  relying  on  the  potent 
gold  piece,  had  made  the  toilsome  ascent  only  to  find  that  their  ster- 
ling sovereigns  were  of  no  avail.  I  think  the  presence  of  the  Novice 
helped  our  party;  but  it  would  be  unwise  to  reveal  the  stratagem  by 
which  we  all  gained  admittance.  Let  it  be  enough  to  say  that  Ave 
went  to  the  bishop's  palace  after  the  usual  hours  of  business,  and  by 
humble  apologies  obtained  an  audience  with  the  secretary.  While  we 
were  waiting  we  sat  down  under  a  frivolously  gorgeous  rococo  ceiling, 
on  a  great  double  staircase  of  marble  leading  up  from  the  patio,  which 
was  well  planted  with  shrubs,  and  had  walks  paved  with  smooth  round 
stones  of  various  hue,  set  edgewise  in  extensive  patterns.  The  vaulted 
ceiling  resounded  powerfully  with  every  remark  we  made,  which  had 
the  result  of  subduing  our  conversation  to  whispers,  for  an  attendant 
soon  came  to  warn  us  that  the  bishop  was  asleep,  and  that  we  must  not 


"  ARRE,   BURR-R-RICO  !' 


CORDOVAN    PILGRIMS.  91 

speak  loud  on  account  of  the  echo.  Profiting  by  the  great  man's  siesta, 
we  extracted  the  desired  permission  from  his  severe-faced  but  courteous 
secretary,  who  marked  the  document  "  Especial." 

Our  brief  cavalcade  of  donkeys  started  the  next  morning  at  five,  af- 
ter we  had  taken  a  preternaturally  early  cup  of  chocolate.  The  donkeys 
appeared  to  know  just  where  we  were  going,  and  would  not  obey  the 
rein :  the  driver,  walking  behind,  governed  them  by  a  system  of  nega- 
tives, informing  them  with  a  casual  exclamation  when  they  showed 
signs  of  turning  where  he  didn't  want  them  to.  "  Advance  there, 
Baker!"  he  would  cry.  "Don't  you  know  better  than  that?  What  a 
wretched  little  beast !  Do  as  I  tell  you."  The  animal  in  question  was 
named  Bread-dealer,  or  Baker,  and  the  one  that  I  rode  rejoiced  in  the 
eccentric  though  eminently  literary  appellation  of  "  College." 

"To  the  right,  College  !"  our  muleteer  would  shout,  exercising  a 
despotic  power  over  my  four-footed  institution  of  learning.  "Get  up, 
little  mule.  Arrc,  burr-r-rico /"  Firing  off  a  volley  of  r's  with  a  tremen- 
dous rising  and  falling  intonation,  which  invariably  moved  the  brute  to 
take  one  or  two  rapid  steps  before  dropping  back  into  his  customary 
slow  walk.  As  the  heat  increased,  and  the  way  grew  steeper,  he  sighed 
out  his  "  arre  " — gee  up — in  a  long,  melancholy  drawl,  which  seemed 
to  express  profound  despair  concerning  the  mulish  race  generally. 
Muleteers  in  Spain  are  termed  generically,  from  this  surviving  Arabic 
word,  arricros,  or,  as  we  may  translate  it,  "gee-uppers." 

In  this  manner  Ave  made  our  way  along  the  dusty  road  among  olive 
orchards,  and  a  sort  of  oak  called  japarros,  until  we  began  to  mount  by 
a  rough,  stony  path  which  sometimes  divided  itself  like  the  branches 
of  a  torrent,  though  we  more  than  once  succeeded  in  prodding  the 
donkeys  into  a  lively  canter.  The  white  fagades  of  villas — quintets  or 
carmens  they  are  denominated  hereabout — twinkled  out  from  nooks  of 
the  hills;  but  at  that  early  hour  everything  was  very  still.  We  could 
almost  see  the  silence  around  us.  Higher  up,  unknown  birds  began  to 
sing  in  the  sparse  boscage  that  clothed  the  mountain  flank  or  clustered 
in  its  narrow  dells.  Midway  of  the  ascent,  furthermore,  Baker,  on  whom 
Velveteen  was  seated  in  solemn  stride,  with  a  blanket  in  place  of  sad- 
dle, paused  ominously,  and  then  began  a  nasal  performance  which 
shook  our  very  souls.  Why  a  donkey  should  bray  in  such  a  place  it 
is  hard  to  determine,  but  how  he  did  it  will  forever  remain  impressed 
on  our  tympana.  There  was  something  peculiarly  terrible  and  unnerv- 
ing in  the  sound  ;  and  just  as  it  ceased,  our  guide,  Manuel,  observed 
that  this  had  once  been  a  great  place  for  robbers.     "A  few  years  ago," 


92  STAN  IS  1 1    VISTAS. 

said  he,  "no  one  would  have  dared  to  come  up  along  this  road  as  we 
are  doing."  Me  added  that  the  marauders  used  to  conceal  themselves 
in  the  numerous  caves  in  the  region,  and  pointed  out  one  fissure  in  the 
rocks  which  his  liberal  imagination  converted  into  the  entrance  of  a 
subterranean  retreat  running  for  several  miles  into  the  heart  of  the 
mountains.  At  the  same  instant,  looking  down  across  a  gorge  below 
our  track,  I  saw  a  man  with  a  gun  moving  through  a  patch  of  steep 
olives,  as  if  to  head  us  off  at  a  point  farther  along;  and  on  a  jutting 
rock-rib  above  us  a  memorial  cross  rose  warningly.  Crosses  were  for- 
merly  put  up  in  the  most  impossible  places  among  these  hills,  to  mark 
the  spot  where  anybody  fell  a  victim  to  bandits  or  assassins;  a  fact  of 
which  the  elder  Dumas  makes  telling  use  in  one  of  his  short  stories." 
Brigands  were  themselves  punctilious  in  setting  up  these  reminders, 
which  were  held  to  exert  an  expiatory  influence.  If  any  one  would 
understand  how  hopelessly  the  Spanish  mind  at  one  time  perverted  the 
relations  of  crime  and  religion,  he  may  read  Calderon's  "  Devotion  of  the 
Cross,"  wherein  the  hero,  Eusebio,  a  terrible  renegade  who  murders  right 
and  left,  born  at  the  foot  of  one  of  these  way-side  crosses,  is  saved  by 
his  reverence  for  the  holy  symbol.  He  is  enabled,  by  virtue  of  this 
pious  sentiment,  to  rise  up  after  he  is  dead,  walk  about,  and  confess 
his  sins  to  a  friar;  after  which  he  is  caught  up  into  heaven' 

The  whole  conjunction  was  somewhat  alarming,  but  Manuel  ex- 
plained away  our  man  with  a  gun  by  saying  that  he  was  merely  one 
of  the  armed  watchmen  usually  attached  to  country  estates  to  protect 
crops  and  stock  from  depredation.  As  for  the  bandits,  they  had  now 
been  quite  dispersed,  he  declared,  by  the  Civil  Guard.  That  name,  it 
is  true,  called  up  new  fears  for  Velveteen  and  myself  as  we  thought  of 
the  two  relentless  men  who  were  on  our  trail ;  but  we  knew  that  for  the 
moment,  at  least,  Ave  were  beyond  their  reach. 

At  last  we  gained  the  very  summit,  and  drew  up  under  a  porch  at 
the  walled  gate  of  the  Desert,  while  a  shower  began  to  fall  in  large 
scattered  drops,  like  the  lingering  contents  of  some  gigantic  watering- 
pot,  but  soon  spent  itself.  Our  second  pull  at  the  mournful-sounding 
bell  was  answered  by  a  sad  young  monk,  who  opened  a  square  loop- 
hole in  the  wall,  and  asked  our  errand  in  a  voice  enfeebled  by  volun- 
tary privations.  After  inspecting  our  pass,  he  told  us,  with  a  wan  but 
friendly  smile,  that  we  must  wait  a  little.  It  was  Friday,  and  we  had 
to  wait  rather  long,  for  the  hermits  were  just  at  that  time  undergoing 

*  Contained  in  the  series  called  "The  Man  with  Five  Wives." 


CORDOVAN    PILGRIMS.  93 

the  weekly  flagellation  to  which  they  subject  themselves.  But  finally 
we  were  let  in — donkeys,  guide,  arriero,  and  the  colored  maid  "Fan" 
sharing  the  hospitality.  An  avenue  of  tall,  sombre,  cypresses  opened 
before  us,  leading  to  the  main  building  and  offices.  The  Desert,  in 
fact,  was  green  enough;  well  supplied  with  olives  and  pomegranates; 
and  hedges  of  the  prickly-pear,  with  its  thick,  stiff  leaves  shaped  like 
a  fire-shovel,  and  heavy  as  wax-work,  cinctured  the  isolated  huts  in 
which  the  brothers  dwell  each  by  himself.  Precisely  as  we  came  to  a 
triangular  plot  in  front  of  the  entrance  we  were  confronted  by  a  skull 
set  up  prominently  in  a  sort  of  pyramidal  monument,  giving  force  by 
its  dusty  grin  to  an  inscription  in  Spanish,  which  read  : 

"AS   THOU    LOOKEST,  SO   ONCE   LOOKED   I: 

AS    I    LOOK    NOW,   SO    WILT   THOU    APrEAR   HEREAFTER. 

PONDER   UPON  THIS,  AND   SIN   NOT." 

Shortly  beyond  stood  a  catacomb  above-ground,  in  which  a  number 
of  defunct  hermits  had  been  sealed  up.  It  also  bore  a  legend,  but  in 
Latin  : 

"THE   DAY   OF   DEATH    IS   BETTER   THAN   THAT   OF   BIRTH." 

In  the  vestibule  of  the  house  these  drastic  reminders  of  mortality  were 
supplemented  by  two  allegorical  pictures — hanging  among  some  por- 
traits of  evanished  worthies  who  had  ended  their  penitential  days  there 
— two  crude  paintings  which  exhibited  "  The  Soul  Tortured  by  Doubt," 
and  "  The  Soul  Blessed  by  Faith."  It  was  not  altogether  in  keeping 
with  the  unworldly  and  ascetic  atmosphere  of  this  spiritual  refuge,  that 
a  tablet  in  the  wall  should  record,  with  fulsome  abasement  of  phrase, 
how  her  most  Gracious  Majesty  Isabella  II.  had,  some  few  years  ago, 
deigned  to  visit  the  Desert,  and  how  this  stone  had  been  placed  there 
as  a  humble  monument  of  her  condescension.  Certainly,  considering 
the  ex-Queen's  character  (if  it  may  claim  consideration),  it  is  hard  to 
see  what  honor  the  anchorites  should  find  in  her  visiting  their  abode. 

A  gray-haired  brother,  robed  in  the  coarse  and  weighty  brown  serge 
which  he  is  obliged  to  wear  in  winter  and  summer  alike,  received  us 
kindly  and  showed  us  the  expensively  adorned  plateresque  chapel.  He 
knelt  and  bowed  nearly  to  the  threshold  before  unlocking  the  door, 
crossed  himself,  and  knelt  again  on  the  pavement  within  ;  then,  advanc- 
ing farther,  he  dropped  down  once  more  on  both  knees,  and  bent  over 
as  if  he  had  some  intention  of  using  his  good-natured,  simple  old  head 
as  a  mop  to  polish   the  black  and  white  marble  squares,  but  ended  by 


94 


SPANISH    VISTAS. 


signing  another   cross,  and   moving  his  lips   in   noiseless    prayer.     The 
national  manner  of  making  the  cross  is  peculiar:  after  the  usual  touch- 
ing of  forehead  and  breast,  the  Spanish  Catholic  concludes  by  suddenly 
attempting  to  swallow  his  thumb,  and  then  as  hastily  pulling  it  out  of 
his  mouth  again,  to  save  it  up  for  some  other  time.     This  movement,  I 
suppose,  emblemizes  the  eating  of  the  consecrated  wafer,  but  it  makes 
a  grotesque  impression  that  is  anything  but  solemn.     At  times  you  will 
also  see  him  execute  a  unique  triple  cross,  with  strange  passes  and  dabs 
in  the  air  which  might  easily  be  mistaken  for  preliminary  strategy  di- 
rected against  some  erring 
mosquito  engaged  in  gue- 
rilla  warfare   on   his    eye- 
brow.    We  were  obliged, 
in    conformity,  to    do    as 
our  Catholic    companions 
did — receiving    the    holy- 
water  and  making  a  sim- 
ple  cross — an   act    which, 
without     being     of    their 
faith,    one    may    perform 
with     unsectarian      rever- 
ence.      Brother     Esteban 
was  on   the  watch  to  see 
that  proper  devotion  was 
shown    in    this   peculiarly 
sacred  chapel,  and  in  the 
midst  of  his  adoration  he 
turned  quickly  upon  Man- 
uel, asking,    "  Why    don't 
you  go  down  on  both  your  knees  in  the  accustomed  manner?" 

Manuel,  being  a  master  of  ready  deception,  answered,  without  an  in- 
stant's delay,  "  Ah,  that  is  my  misfortune  !  I  lately  had  an  accident  to 
that  leg"  (indicating  the  one  which  had  not  sunk  far  enough),  "and 
that  is  why  it  is  not  easy  to  get  down  on  both  knees."  However,  he 
spread  his  handkerchief  wider,  and  painfully  brought  the  offending 
member  into  place. 

Esteban  frankly  apologized,  and  then  the  praying  went  on  again. 
When   we  got  out  into  the  corridor,  and   our  monkish  friend  was 
well  in  advance,  black  Fan's  repressed  heresy  broke  into  a  startling  re- 
action.    She  dipped  her  hand  again  and  again  into  the  basin  of  holy- 


TIIE    FRUIT    OF   THE    DESIERTA. 


CORDOVAN    PILGRIMS.  9.*) 

water,  wastefully  dropping  some  of  it  on  the  floor,  and  began  outlining 
unlimited  crosses  from  her  sable  forehead  downward — covering  her 
breast  with  an  imaginary  armor  of  them — enough  to  keep  her  supplied 
for  a  month,  and  proof  against  every  possible  misfortune.  Her  broad 
grin  of  delight,  exposing  her  vermilion  lips  and  white  teeth  like  a  slice 
of  unripe  watermelon,  added  to  the  horror  of  the  situation,  and  I  pro- 
tested against  such  uncouth  profanity. 

"  Might's  well  keep  goin'  now  I  begun,"  she  chuckled  in  reply.  "  I's 
'fraid  I'll  forgit  how!"  She  was  making  another  plunge  for  the  font, 
when  our  pale,  gentle-featured  Novice  stopped  her  in  mid-career. 

Fortunately  good  Esteban  had  not  observed  this  small  orgy  going 
on.  He  was  as  pleasant  as  ever  when  we  went  with  him  into  a  little 
room  to  buy  rosaries  and  deposit  some  silver  pieces  for  charity;  and 
there  he  made  farther  and  profuse  apologies  to  Manuel.  "  Of  course 
you  see  it  was  impossible  I  should  know  there  was  anything  the  matter 
with  your  leg,"  he  said,  quite  plaintively.  And  Manuel  accepted  his 
contrition  with  double  pleasure  because  he  knew  it  to  be  wholly  un- 
deserved. 

The  hermits,  as  I  have  said,  have  their  separate  cottages  scattered 
about  the  grounds,  each  with  a  small  patch  of  land  to  be  cultivated. 
There  they  raise  fruit,  which  their  rules  forbid  them  to  eat,  and  so  it  is 
carried  down  as  a  present  to  some  wealthy  Cordovan  families  who  sup- 
port the  hermitage  by  their  largesses.  Every  day  poor  folk  toil  up 
from  the  plain,  some  five  miles,  to  this  airy  perch,  and  are  fed  by  the 
monks ;  but  they  themselves  eat  little,  abstaining  from  meat,  wine, 
coffee,  tea — everything,  indeed,  except  some  few  ounces  of  daily  bread, 
a  pint  of  garbanzos  (the  tasteless,  round  yellow  bean  which  is  the  uni- 
versal food  of  the  poor  in  Spain),  and  a  soup  made  of  bread,  water,  oil, 
and  garlic.  They  live  on  nothing  and  prayer.  They  rise  at  three  in 
the  morning,  and  thrice  a  week  they  fast  from  that  hour  until  noon. 
Their  step  is  slow,  and  their  voices  have  a  strange,  inert,  sickly  sound ; 
but  they  appeared  cheerful  enough,  and  joked  with  each  other.  I 
asked  Esteban  the  name  of  a  tiny  yellow  flower  growing  by  the  path, 
and  he  couldn't  tell  me ;  but  he  plucked  it  tenderly,  and  began  dis- 
coursing to  Manuel  on  its  beauty.  "  Tan  chiquita"  he  said,  in  his  poor 
soft  voice.  "  So  little,  little,  and  yet  so  precious  and  so  finely  made  !" 
Another  brother  was  deeply  absorbed  in  snipping  off  bits  of  coiled 
brass  wire  with  a  pair  of  pincers.  "These  are  for  the  'Our  Fathers,'  ' 
he  explained,  meaning  the  large  beads  in  the  rosary,  separated  from  the 
smaller  "  Ave  Maria"  ones  by  links  of  wire.     The  cottages  or  huts,  sur- 


96  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

rounded  by  an  outer  wall,  contain  a  cell,  sometimes  cut  out  of  a  bowlder 
lying  on  the  spot,  where  there  is  a  rude  cot,  a  shelf  for  holy  books  and 
the  crucifix,  and  a  grated  window,  across  which  waves,  perhaps,  the 
broad-leaved  bough  of  a  fig-tree.  An  anteroom,  provided  with  a  few 
utensils  and  the  disciplinary  scourge  hanging  mildly  against  the  wall, 
completes  the  strange  interior.  The  lives  of  the  hermits  of  the  Sierra 
are  reduced  to  the  ghastly  simplicity  of  a  skeleton  ;  a  part  of  their  time 
is  spent  in  contemplating  skulls,  and  they  have  a  habit  of  digging  their 
own  graves,  in  order  to  keep  more  plainly  before  their  minds  the  end 
of  all  earthly  careers.  Mistaken  as  all  this  seems  to  many  of  us,  there 
was  a  peacefulness  about  the  Hermitage  for  which  many  a  storm-tossed 
soul  sighs  in  vain  ;  and  I  am  glad  that  some  few  creatures  can  find  here 
the  repose  they  desire  while  waiting  for  death.  Some  of  the  hermits 
are  men  of  rank,  who  have  retired  hither  disheartened  with  the  world; 
others  are  low-born — men  afflicted  by  some  form  of  misfortune  or 
misdemeanor  of  their  own,  who  wish  to  hide  from  life  ;  but  all  assem- 
ble in  a  pure  democracy  of  sorrow  and  penitential  piety,  apparently 
contented. 

We  breakfasted  at  ten  in  a  room  hospitably  put  at  our  disposal,  the 
windows  of  which  admitted  a  delicious  breeze  and  opened  upon  a  mag- 
nificent view  of  the  plain  far  below,  where  the  distant  city  rested  like 
a  white  mist — an  impalpable  thing.  Brother  Jose  brought  some  olives, 
to  add  to  the  refection  which  our  sumpter-mule  had  carried  to  this 
height.  They  had  a  ripe,  acid,  oily  flavor,  which  made  one  think  of 
homely  things  and  of  patient  housewives  in  remote  American  hills,  who 
lead  lives  as  monotonous,  as  self-denying  and  unnoticed  as  those  which 
pass  on  this  ridge  of  the  Sierra  in  Andalusia.  Our  Novice  thought 
the  olives  had  "a  holy  flavor;"  and  I  could  understand  her  feeling. 
Find  me  a  site  more  fitted  for  meditation  on  the  volatility  of  mundane 
things  than  this  eyry  on  the  mountain-head  overlooking  the  historic 
valley!  There  lies  Cordova,  a  mere  spot  in  the  reach  of  soft  citron 
and  straw-tinted  fields;  and  the  Guadalquivir,  winding  like  a  neglected 
skein  of  tawny  silk  thrown  down  on  the  mapped  landscape.  The  plain 
is  calm  as  oblivion.  It  is  oblivion's  self;  for  there  the  earth  has  ab- 
sorbed Cordova  the  Old,  so  that  not  a  vestige  remains  where  com- 
pressed masses  of  human  dwellings  once  stood.  They  are  crumbled  to 
an  indistinguishable  powder.  That  soft  autumnal  soil  has  swallowed  up 
the  bones  of  unnumbered  generations,  and  no  trace  of  them  is  left.  We 
imagined  the  glittering  legions  of  Caesar  as  they  moved  slowly  through 
the  country,  flashing  the  sun  from  their  compact  steel,  at  that  time 


MEMENTO   MORI. 


CORDOVAN   PILGRIMS.  99 

when  they  put  to  the  sword  twenty-five  thousand  inhabitants  of  the 
city,  which  had  sided  with  Pompey.  We  saw  the  Moors  once  more 
envelop  it  with  arms  and  banners  and  the  fluttering  of  snowy  garments. 
But  all  these  vanished  again  like  a  moving  cloud,  or  a  smoke  from 
burning  stubble;  and  the  sun  still  pours  its  uninterrupted  flood  of 
splendor  over  the  land,  bringing  life  and  bringing  death,  with  impar- 
tial ray. 

The  Spanish  word  for  "  crowded  "  or  "  populated  "  is  still  used  to 
signify  "dense"  in  any  ordinary  connection,  as  the  phrase  barba pobla- 
da,  for  a  thick  beard,  testifies.  The  implication  is  that,  when  there  is 
any  population  at  all,  it  must  be  crowded;  a  direct  transmission,  ap- 
parently, from  periods  when  inhabitants  clustered  in  immense  num- 
bers around  the  centres  of  civil  power  for  safety.  And  the  word  holds 
good  to-day;  for  one  finds,  in  the  present  shrunken  human  force  of  the 
Peninsula,  closely  packed  assemblages  of  people  in  the  towns  and  cities, 
with  wide  domains  of  comparatively  untenanted  country  around. 

When  night  closed  above  us  again  in  the  city;  when  mellow  lamps 
glowed,  and  a  tropical  fragrance  flowed  in  from  the  gardens;  when  in 
the  long  dusky  pauses  of  warm  nocturnal  silence  the  watchman's  weary 
and  pathetic  cry  resounded,  or  hollow-toned  church-bells  rung  the  hour, 
the  romance  of  Cordova  seemed  to  concentrate  itself,  and  fell  upon 
me,  as  I  listened,  in  chords  that  took  this  form  : 


FLOWER   OF   Sr.UN. 

Like  a  throb  of  the  heart  of  midnight 
I  hear  a  guitar  faintly  humming, 

And  through  the  Alcazar  garden 
A  wandering  footstep  coming. 

A  shape  by  the  orange  bower's  shadow — 
Whose  shape?     Is  it  mine  in  a  dream? 

For  my  senses  are  lost  in  the  perfumes 
That  out  of  the  dark  thicket  stream. 

'Mid  the  tinkle  of  Moorish  waters, 
And  the  rush  of  the  Guadalquivir, 

The  rosemary  breathes  to  the  jasmine, 
That  trembles  with  joyous  fear. 

And  their  breath  goes  silently  upward, 
Far  up  to  the  white  burning  stars, 

With  a  message  of  sweetness,  half  sorrow, 
Unknown  but  to  souls  that  bear  scars. 


[00  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

Here,  midway  between  stars  and  flowers, 

I  know  not  which  draw  me  the  most : 
Shall  my  years  yield  earthly  sweetness? 

Shall   I  shine  from  the  sky  like  a  ghost? 

A  spirit  I  cannot  quiet 

Bids  me  bow  to  the  unseen  rod  ; 
I  dream  of  a  lily  transplanted, 

To  bloom  in  the  garden  of  God. 

Yet  the  footsteps  come  nearer  and  nearer ; 

Still  moans  the  soft-troubled  strain 
Of  the  strings  in  the  dusk.     Well  I  know  it: 

'Twas  called  for  me  "Flower  of  Spain." 

Ah,  yes  !  my  lover  he  made  it, 

And  called  it  by  my  pet  name : 
I  hear  it,  and — I'm  but  a  woman — 

It  sweeps  through  my  heart  like  a  flame. 

The  night's  heart  and  mine  flow  together  ; 

The  music  is  beating  for  each. 
The  moon's  gone,  the  nightingale  silent  ; 

Light  and  song  are  both  in  his  speech. 

As  the  musky  shadows  that  mingle, 

As  star-shine  and  flower-scent  made  one, 
Our  spirits  in  gladness  and  anguish 

Have  met :    their  waiting  is  done. 

But  over  the  leaves  and  the  waters 

What  echoes  the  strange  clanging  bells 
Send  afloat  from  the  dim-arched  Mezquita  ! 

How  mournful  the  cadence  that  swells 

From  the  lonely  roof  of  the  convent 

Where  pale  nuns  rest  !     On  the  hill, 
Far  off,   the  hermits  in  vigil 

Are  bowed  at  the  crucifix  still ; 

And  the  brown  plain  slumbers  around  us 

O  land  of  remembrance  and  grief, 
If  I  am  truly  the  flower, 

How  withered  are  you,  the  leaf  ! 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  discussion  among  our  group  of  pilgrims 
as  to  the  propriety  of  a  foundation  like  the  Hermitage  of  the  Sierra  con- 
tinuing to  exist  in  an  age  like  the  present  one.     Whetstone,  who  had 


CORDOVAN    PILGRIMS. 


Jul 


DIFFICULT    FOR    FOREIGNERS. 


declined  to  visit  it,  was 
of  opinion  that  men 
who  led  such  idle  lives 
should  be  suppressed 
by  law,  and  even  went 
so  far  as  to  talk  about 
hanging  them.  So  sin- 
gular a  theory,  emanat- 
ing from  a  citizen  of  a 
free  republic,  met  with 
some  opposition  ;  but 
this  was  not  pushed 
too  far,  because  we  un- 
derstood that  Whet- 
stone kept  a  hotel  at 
home,  and  dreaded  lest 
some    day    we    should 

be  at  his  mercy.  As  for  the  rest  of  us,  it  was  not  easy  to  pronounce 
that  we  were  of  much  more  value  than  the  hermits  ;  and  assuredly 
those  earnest  ascetics  compared  favorably  with  our  mule-driver,  who 
was  remarkable  only  for  an  expression  of  incipient  humor  that  was  nev- 
er able  to  attain  the  height  of  actual  expression.  I  was  sure  that,  as  he 
sighed  out  his  final  "Arre"  in  this  world,  he  would  pass  into  the  next 
with  that  vacant  smile  on  his  face,  and  the  joke  which  he  might  have 
perpetrated  under  fortunate  circumstances  still  unuttered.  Nor  did 
the  average  life  of  Cordova  strike  us  as  signally  indispensable  to  the 
world's  progress.  It  was  doubtless  a  very  pleasant,  lazy  life  so  far  as 
it  went,  and  we  did  not  decide  to  hang  the  inhab- 
itants !  They  have  a  charming  fashion  there  of 
building  houses  with  pleasant  interior  courts,  in 
which  the  selinda,  a  vine  with  pale  lavender  clus- 
ters of  blossoms  suggesting  the  wistaria,  droops 
amid  matted  foliage,  and  lends  its  grace  alike  to 
crumbling  architecture  or  modern  masonry.  In 
these  courts,  separated  from  the  street  by  gates 
of  iron  grating  beautifully  designed,  you  will  see 
pleasant  little  domestic  groups,  and  possibly  a 
whole  dinner-party  going  on  in  the  fresh  air.  It 
was  likewise  agreeable  to  repair  to  a  certain  res- 
the  jasmine  girl.        taurant — restored    in    the    Moorish    manner — and 


102  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

there,  while  clapping  hands  echoed  through  the  light  arcades,  drink 
iced  beer  and  lemon — a  refreshing  beverage,  which  might  reasonably 
take  the  place  of  fiery  punches  (in  America)  for  hot  weather.  "  Neither 
will  I  deny,"  said  Velveteen,  "that  it  is  a  wonderful  sensation  to  stray 
into  the  Plaza  de  Geron  Paez  and  come  up  suddenly  against  that  glo- 
rious old  Roman  gate — growing  up  as  naturally  as  the  trees  in  front 
of  it,  but  so  much  more  wonderful  than  they — with  its  fine  crumbling 
yellow  traceries.  How  nicely  it  would  tell  in  a  sketch,  eh,  with  some 
of  the  royal  grooms — -the  remontistas — walking  through  the  foreground 
in  their  quaint  costumes !" 

The  men  to  whom  he  referred  wear,  in  the  best  sense,  a  thoroughly 
theatrical  garb  of  scarlet  and  black,  finished  off  by  boots  of  Cordovan 
leather  in  the  style  of  sixteenth-century  Spain,  turned  down  at  the  top, 
laced,  tasselled,  and  slashed  open  by  a  curve  that  runs  from  the  side 
down  to  the  back  of  the  heel.  This  shows  the  white  stocking  under 
short  trousers,  giving  to  the  masculine  calf  and  ankle  a  grace  for  which 
they  are  usually  denied  all  credit. 

For  the  rest,  dwellers  in  modern  Cordova  attend  mass  and  vespers, 
stroll  around  to  the  confectioners'  of  an  afternoon  to  eat  sweetmeats, 
especially  sugared  higochumbos  (the  unripe  prickly-pear  boiled  in  syrup), 
or  the  famed  and  fragrant  preserve  of  budding  orange-blossoms  known 
as  dulces  de  alzahar ;  and  the  remainder  of  the  time  they  while  away 
pleasantly  in  loitering  on  the  Street  of  the  Great  Captain,  or  in  peering 
from  their  windows  at  whatever  passes  beneath.  Throughout  the  king- 
dom, it  should  be  said,  a  most  extraordinary  persistence  will  be  ob- 
served in  dawdling,  strolling,  and  general  contemplation.  The  Span- 
iard appears  to  be  born  with  his  legs  in  a  walking  position,  and  with 
loaded  eyes  that  compel  him  to  look  out  of  the  window  whether  he 
wants  to  or  not. 

One  of  the  more  remarkable  observations,  finally,  that  I  collected 
in  Cordova  came  from  Manuel.  It  was  his  reflection  as  he  gazed  down 
from  the  Desierta  into  the  plain  :  "  Ah,  that  was  where  John  Dove 
(Juan  Palom)  did  such  splendid  things  !"  he  sighed.  "  You  don't  know- 
about  John  Dove?  Well,  he  was  one  of  the  very  greatest  men  Spain 
ever  had  ;  he  was  a  robber — and  oh,  what  a  beautiful  robber!" 


ANDALUSIA   AND   THE   ALHAMBRA. 


103 


ANDALUSIA   AND    THE 
ALHAMBRA. 


EVILLE  —  why  should  we  not 
keep  the  proper  and  more 
euphonious  form,  Sevilla? — 
the  home  of  that  Don  Juan 
on  whom  Byron  and  Mozart 
have  shed  a  lustre  more  en- 
viable than  his  reputation,  has 
been  made  familiar  to  every 
one  by  melodious  Figaro  as 
well ;  and  more  lately  Meri- 
mee's  Carmen,  veiled  in  the 
music  of  Bizet,  has  brought  it 
into  the  foreign  consciousness 
again. 

To  me  it  is  memorable  as 
the  place  where  I  saw  the  jars 
in  which  the  Forty  Thieves 
were  smothered.  Worried  by 
a  painfully  profuse  odor  that 
filled  the  whole  street,  one  day 
I  sought  the  cause,  and  found 
it  in  an  olive -oil  merchant's 
tienda,  where  there  were  some 
terra -cotta  jars  of  the  exact 
form  given  in  the  story-books, 
and  afflicted  with  elephantiasis  to  such  a  degree  that  one  or  two  men 
could  easily  have  hidden  in  each.  I  am  sure  they  were  the  same  into 
which  Morgiana  poured  the  boiling  oil,  though  why  it  should  have  been 
heated  is  inexplicable:  the  smell  alone  ought  to  have  been  fatal. 

A  prouder  distinction  is  that  Sevilla  is  the  capital  of  Andalusia,  that 


104:  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

gayest  and  most  diversified  province  of  Spain  ;  the  native  ground  of 
the  bull-fight  and  breeder  of  the  best  bulls;  a  region  abounding  in  racy 
customs  and  characteristics.  The  sea-going  Phoenicians,  who  bear  down 
on  us  from  so  many  points  of  the  historical  compass,  found  in  Andalu- 
sia an  important  trading  field.  Its  mountains  are  still  stored  with  sil- 
ver, copper,  gold,  lead,  which  have  yielded  steady  tribute  for  thousands 
of  years.  In  its  breadths  of  sun-bathed  plain  and  orange-mantled  slope 
the  ancients  placed  their  Elysian  Fields.  Goth  and  Roman,  Moor  and 
Spaniard,  struggled  for  the  mastery  of  so  rich  a  possession  ;  and  mean- 
while Sevilla,  the  favorite  of  Caesar — his  "little  Rome" — lay  at  the  core 
of  the  fruitful  land,  herself  careless  in  the  main  as  to  everything  except 
an  easy  life,  with  plenty  of  singing  and  love  -  making.  From  climate 
and  history,  nevertheless,  from  art  and  the  mingling  of  antipodal  races, 
Sevilla  received  those  influences  which  have  shaped  her  into  the  bizarre 
and  eminently  Spanish  creation  that  she  is — a  visible  memory  of  the 
past,  and  a  sparkling  embodiment  of  the  present.  Society,  amusement, 
and  religious  awe  are  the  controlling  aims  of  the  people,  blended  with 
revolutionary  politics,  and  great  liveliness  in  their  increasing  commerce. 
The  songs  of  Andalusia  pervade  the  whole  kingdom ;  its  dances — cida- 
rillos,  manchegas,  boleros,  the  cacliuca,  and  the  wildly  graceful  Sevillanas 
— enjoy  an  equal  renown. 

To  accept  Sevilla  without  disappointment,  however,  a  robust  appre- 
ciation is  needed.  Its  squalors  and  splendors  are  impartially  distrib- 
uted. Luxurious  mansions  are  dropped  down  indiscriminately  among 
mean  abodes  and  the  homes  of  dirt.  Poverty  and  showiness,  supreme 
beauty  and  grotesque  ugliness,  jostle  each  other  at  close  quarters.  It 
is  a  sort  of  olla podrida  among  cities  ;  but  the  total  result  is  exceedingly 
curious,  and  piques  the  observation. 

The  first  of  it  that  met  our  eyes  was  the  Giralda  tower  of  the  cathe- 
dral, rising  in  unique  majesty  above  the  unseen  town,  and  as  if  inspired 
with  a  fresher  grace  by  its  own  fame.  If  the  bronze  female  figure  of 
Faith  on  the  summit  could  have  spoken,  it  might  have  said  :  "  In  all 
the  range  of  view  from  this  pinnacle  there  is  nothing  so  fair  as  Sevilla." 
The  very  next  object  of  notice  was  a  woman  in  the  street,  who  began 
begging  from  below  the  instant  we  set  foot  on  the  balcony  for  a  gen- 
eral survey.  She  gave  us  our  money's  worth  of  miser}-,  but  the  supply 
afterward  proved  too  great  for  our  demand.  The  mendicants  of  Sevilla 
are  much  more  daring  and  pertinacious  than  their  craft  elsewhere. 
They  call  your  attention  with  a  sharp  "  tst,  tst,"  as  if  you  were  hired  to 
go  through  life  casually,  stopping  the  instant  they  summon  you.     There 


ujwim. 


MAIN    ENTRANCE   TO    THE    CATHEDRAL,    SEVILLA. 
From  a  photograph  by  J.  Laurent  &  Co .,  Madrid. 


ANDALUSIA   AND    THE    ALHAMBRA. 


107 


was  in  particular  one  energetic  man 
who  never  failed  to  pounce  upon  us 
from  his  lair,  and  place  some  few  inches 
in  front  of  us  the  red  and  twisted 
stump  from  which  his  hand  had  been 
severed.  He  had  seemingly  persuaded 
himself  that  our  journey  of  several 
thousand  miles  was  undertaken  princi- 
pally to  inspect  this  anatomical 
specimen.  The  amount  of  execu-  i 
tion  he  did  with  that  mutilated 
member  was  enough  to  shame 
any  able-bodied,  self-supporting 
person.  With  a  single  wave  of 
it  he  could  put  us  to 
flight.      The    effect 


I 


m> 


THE    GIRALDA   TOWER. 


From  a  photograph  by  J.  Laurent 
&  Co..  Madrid. 


IT 


would  not  have  been  more 
instantaneous  if  he  had  sud- 
denly  unmasked    a   mitrail- 
leuse a  yard  from  our  noses. 
To    assume    unconsciousness 
was  futile,  for,  whichever  way 
we  turned,  he  was  always  (it 
would    hardly    be    correct    to 
say  "  on  hand,"  but)  on  time 
with  his  finererless  deform- 


108  SPANISH   VISTAS. 

ity — he  always  placed  it,  with  the  instinct  of  a  finished  artist,  in  the  best 
light  and  most  effective  pose — getting  it  adroitly  between  us  and  any- 
thing we  pretended  to  look  at. 

I  imagined  the  noble  cathedral  might  afford  a  refuge  from  such  at- 
tacks, but  every  door  was  guarded  by  a  squad  of  the  decrepit  army,  so 
that  entrance  there  became  a  horror.  These  sanctuary  beggars  serve  a 
double  purpose,  however.  The  black-garbed  Sevillan  ladies,  who  are 
perpetually  stealing  in  and  out  noiselessly  under  cover  of  their  archly 
draped  lace  veils — losing  themselves  in  the  dark,  incense-laden  interior, 
or  emerging  from  confession  into  the  daylight  glare  again — are  careful 
to  drop  some  slight  conscience-money  into  the  palms  that  wait.  Occa- 
sionally, by  pre-arrangement,  one  of  these  beggars  will  convey  into  the 
hand  that  passes  him  a  silver  piece  a  tightly- folded  note  from  some 
clandestine  lover.  It  is  a  convenient  underground  mail,  and  I  am 
afraid  the  venerable  church  innocently  shelters  a  good  many  little 
transactions  of  this  kind. 

Nothing  can  surpass  in  grandeur,  in  solemn  and  restful  beauty,  the 
hollow  mountain  of  embellished  stone  which  constitutes  this  cathedral. 
It  does  not  present  the  usual  cross  shape,  but  is  based  upon  the  oblong 
form  of  an  old  mosque,  originally  formed  somewhat  like  that  at  Cor- 
dova, but  now  wholly  gone,  excepting  for  the  unequalled  Giralda,  and 
a  few  other  minor  muezzin  towers.  The  Court  of  Oranges  is  another 
relic  of  the  mosque-builders,  where  clumps  of  polished  leafage  contrast 
their  own  vivid  strength  with  the  energetic  lines  of  flying-buttresses  in 
the  background — a  florid  yet  melancholy  height  of  trellised  stone.  The 
enclosing  walls  of  the  Orange  Court,  made  of  firmly  cohering  mud,  or 
tapia,  are  tipped  with  flame-pointed  battlements.  At  their  eastern  end 
rises  the  tall,  square  Giralda,  with  a  serenity  in  its  simple  lines  express- 
ing, like  Greek  temples,  the  satisfied  senses  controlled  by  an  elevated 
mind.  The  lower  portion  bears  other  impress  of  its  Moorish  origin  in 
variously  patterned  courses  of  sunken  brick;  but  the  whole  tower  ter- 
minates in  a  filigree  Christian  spire  of  the  sixteenth  century,  with  a  row 
of  queer  rusty  iron  ornaments,  imitating  vases  filled  with  flowers,  placed 
on  the  ledge  above  the  belfry  at  the  spire's  base.  Then,  as  you  con- 
tinue the  circuit  on  the  east,  you  arrive  opposite  the  apse  curve  mark- 
ing the  chancel  of  the  Chapel  Royal ;  and  here  the  wall  is  moulded  to 
the  taste  of  Charles  V.'s  time,  which  affected  Roman  simplicity  and 
weight,  adding  to  it  a  trace  of  feudal  pomp  in  high-relief  coats  of  arms. 
On  the  third  and  south  side  a  crumbling  frieze  of  deer's  heads  and 
flower  garlands  skirts  the  cornice  above  a  long  plain  front,  the  straight- 


THE     "UNDERGROUND'"'    MAIL. 


ANDALUSIA   AND   THE   ALHAMBRA.  Ill 

ness  of  which  our  friend  Whetstone,  clambering  up  on  a  low  coping 
so  as  to  squint  along  the  side,  and  see  if  the  lines  were  perfectly  true, 
admired  more  than  anything  else.  Afterward  one  reaches  a  corner 
where  the  work  remains  unfinished,  and  the  blackened  trunks  of  incom- 
plete pinnacles  in  graded  ranks  suggest  the  charred  fragments  of  a  faith 
once  all  afire,  now  darkened  and  cold.  There  is  no  all-dominating 
dome  ;  but  there  are  two  or  three  bulbous  upheavals  in  the  roof,  some 
spindling  turrets  on  the  north,  and  a  square  elevation  in  the  middle  re- 
vealing the  form  of  the  transept.  The  whole  top  is  ribbed  with  stone, 
serrated  with  ornate  crockets,  crowded  with  bosses  and  small  spires,  or 
edged  with  a  double  balustrade  mimicking  in  its  flame-points  a  thou- 
sand altar  lights.  Petrified  rosettes  and  spiral  wreathings  project  from 
the  sides  in  unchangeable  efflorescence,  and  great  arches,  furrowed 
around  by  concentric  ripples  of  carving,  and  sometimes  overpeered  by 
quaint  terra-cotta  heads,  give  entrance  to  the  interior  of  the  gigantic 
marvel.  And  over  all  towers  the  Giralda  to  a  height  of  three  hundred 
and  fifty  feet,  surmounted  by  the  Giraldillo  vane  —  a  woman's  form, 
which  turns  its  twenty-five  hundred-weight  of  bronze  from  point  to 
point  at  the  slightest  veering  of  the  wind.  But  the  consummate  won- 
der of  this  great  fabric,  under  which  prostrate  ages  seem  to  crouch 
while  lifting  it  to  heaven,  is  the  union  of  diverse  styles  and  spirits  in  its 
construction.  The  different  schools  conglomerated  in  such  an  exterior 
give  the  cathedral  a  great  and  mysterious  power  of  variety ;  yet,  de- 
cided though  their  contrasts  are,  the  effect  is  not  harsh.  It  bears  wit- 
ness to  the  truth  that  the  spirit  of  man  when  attuned  to  the  mood  of 
sincere  worship,  however  unlike  its  expression  may  be  at  different 
epochs  and  through  different  races,  will  always  make  a  certain  grand 
inclusive  harmony  with  itself. 

The  coolness  of  the  lofty  and  umbrageous  aisles  within  is  not  pen- 
etrated by  the  fiercest  summer  heats ;  but  their  religious  twilight, 
though  inciting  to  a  devout  and  prayerful  sentiment,  wraps  in  obscurity 
the  crowded  works  of  art,  the  emblazoned  rctablos,  the  paintings  of 
Murillo,  Campana,  and  Morales,  and  the  costly  ornaments  bestowed 
upon  the  high  altar,  as  well  as  those  of  some  thirty  side-chapels.  In 
the  central  nave,  before  a  shrine  at  the  choir-back,  lies  the  tomb  of  Fer- 
dinand, son  of  Christopher  Columbus.  The  colossal  form  of  another 
Christopher,  the  saint,  lifts  itself  up  the  wall  to  a  height  of  thirty-two 
feet,  near  the  Gate  of  the  Exchange.  Whoever  looks  upon  St.  Chris- 
topher, to  him  no  harm  shall  come  during  that  day ;  hence  this  worthy 
is  a  common  object  in  Spanish  cathedrals,  and  always  painted  so  large 


112  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

that  no  one  who  diligently  attends  mass  can  possibly  miss  seeing  him.  A 
curious  relic  on  the  Chapel  Royal  altar  is  the  Battle  Virgin,  a  small  ivory 
image  which  King  Ferdinand  the  Sainted  always  carried  in  war  firmly 
fixed  on  his  saddle-bow.  There,  too,  the  King  himself,  embalmed,  is  pre- 
served in  a  chiselled  silver  case,  to  be  uncovered  and  shown  three  times 
a  year  with  great  pomp  of  military  music.  A  life-size  Virgin  with  mov- 
able joints  and  spun-gold  hair  watches  over  him,  but  did  not  prevent  his 
crown  from  being  stolen  a  few  years  ago.  Not  far  away  Murillo's  San 
Antonio  hangs,  the  chief  figure  in  which  was  also  stolen,  being  cut  out 
in  1874,  as  many  who  read  this  will  remember,  and  carried  to  New  York, 
where  it  was  recovered.  Innumerable  other  works  and  wonders  there 
arc  and  the  sacristies  contain  great  value  of  goldsmiths'  products;  but, 
unless  it  be  made  a  subject  of  long  artistic  study,  the  fundamental 
charm  of  the  cathedral  consists  in  its  general  aspects,  its  mysterious 
perspectives,  its  proportions  so  simple  and  grandiose;  the  isolated 
pictures  formed  at  almost  any  point  by  jewelled  and  candle-lit  chapels 
sparkling  dimly  through  a  permanent  dusk,  rainbowed  here  and  there 
by  the  light  from  old  stained  windows. 

From  the  Giralda,  which  is  mounted  by  inclined  planes  in  place  of 
stairs,  one  looks  down  upon  the  glorious  building  as  if  it  were  some- 
thing belonging  to  a  lower  and  different  world.  All  around,  beyond, 
the  mazy  city  flattens  itself  out  in  a  confusion  of  white  walls  and  tiled 
roofs,  that  look  like  the  armored  backs  of  scaly  monsters  huddled  slug- 
gishly in  the  powerful  sunshine,  with  impossible  streets  among  them 
reduced  to  mere  thin  lines  of  shadow.  The  tawny  river  touches  it ; 
palaces  and  gardens  and  abandoned  monasteries  fringe  it.  Quite  near 
you  see  the  Tower  of  Gold — a  surviving  outwork  of  the  Moorish  de- 
fences— which  was  formerly  coated  with  orange-colored  tiles  on  the 
outside,  while  the  inside  furnished  a  repository  for  treasure  brought 
from  the  New  World.  A  crenellated  Moorish  fortification  rises  up 
dreamily  at  one  point,  but  finding  itself  out  of  date,  abruptly  subsides 
again.  Farther  out  are  the  seven  suburbs,  including  the  gypsy  and 
sailor  quarter,  the  Triana  ;  and  then  the  plains  stretch  into  an  immense 
area  of  olive,  gold,  and  white,  reaching  to  mountains  on  the  north  and 
east.  A  multitude  of  doves  inhabit  the  spire,  and  there  is  almost  al- 
ways a  hawk  sailing  above  it,  higher  than  anything  else  under  the 
cloudless  sky.  At  the  base  lives  the  bell-ringer,  through  whose  stone- 
paved  dining-room  and  nursery,  filled  with  his  family,  we  had  to  pass 
in  order  to  ascend.  Once,  as  we  stood  toward  sunset  in  the  high  gal- 
lery where  the  bells  are  hung  in  rectangular  or  arched  apertures,  we 


ANDALUSIA   AND   THE   ALHAMBRA.  113 

heard  the  repique  sounding  the  Angelus.     It  was  a  furious  explosion  of 
metallic  resonance. 

Twenty  bells  on  swinging  beams,  that  throw  the  echoing  mouths 
outward  through  the  openings,  and  two  fixed  in  place  within,  of  which 
Santa  Maria— profanely  called  The  Fat  One— is  the  largest:  such  is 
the  battery  at  command.  They  are  not  all  used  at  once,  however,  for 
the  Angelus.  The  ringer  and  his  two  sons  were  satisfied  with  touching 
up  Santa  Catalina  (of  a  tone  peculiarly  deep  and  acceptable),  St.  John 
the  Baptist,  San  Jose,  and  one  or  two  others.  The  whole  brazen  fami- 
ly have  been  duly  baptized,  among  them  being  San  Laureano  and  San 
Isidore,  named  after  the  special  patrons  of  Sevilla.  One  after  another 
their  tongues  rolled  forth  a  deafening  roar,  in  a  systematic  disorder  of 
thunderous  tones,  while  the  chief  ringer  went  about  unconcernedly  with 
a  smouldering  cigarette  in  his  lips.  One  of  his  sons,  after  uncoiling  the 
twisted  rope  around  the  beam  of  San  Laureano,  thus  getting  it  into 
violent  motion,  watched  his  chance,  sprung  on  to  the  beam,  agile  as  a 
cat,  and  stood  there  while  it  rocked,  the  bell  under  him  swinging  out 
at  each  turn,  over  the  open  square  below.  It  was  three  hundred  feet, 
down  to  the  pavement,  and  the  least  slip  would  have  sent  him  down 
to  it  like  a  handful  of  dirt.  His  conception  of  what  would  please  us, 
nevertheless,  led  him  thoroughly  to  unnerve  us  by  repeating  the  per- 
formance several  times. 

"  Why  don't  the  high-priest,  or  whatever  he  is,  go  on  and  finish  up 
this  church?"  asked  Whetstone  of  the  guide.  "  Seems  to  me  it's  about 
time." 

"The  priest?  He  don't  want  to,"  was  Vincent's  answer,  given 
with  a  movement  of  the  fingers  meant  to  imply  the  receiving  of  money. 
"  It  make  too  good  excuse." 

Our  conductor,  who  I  am  sure  was  a  sceptic,  went  on  to  declare  that 
within  the  last  ten  years  ninety  thousand  dollars  had  been  left  by  will 
for  carrying  on  the  unfinished  portion  of  the  cathedral,  but  as  yet  no 
movement  to  begin  the  work  had  been  made.  "  Where  all  that  money 
go?"  he  asked,  innocent  curiosity  overspreading  his  features,  while  his 
eye  gleamed  with  hidden  intelligence. 

"What  do  the  people  think  of  the  priests?"  one  of  us  asked. 

"The  chimneys*  will  find  out  some  time,"  he  replied;  adding,  in  the 
proverbial  strain  common  with  Spaniards:  "When  the  river  comes 
down  from  the  mountains,  it  brings  stones." 

*  A  nickname  alluding  to  the  sooty  black  of  the  clerical  costume. 

8 


114  SPANISH   VISTAS. 

"  By  the  river,  you  mean  revolution  ?     But  you've  had  that  before." 

The  conclusive  answer  to  this  was  a  maxim  borrowed  from  the  ring : 
"  The  fifth  bull  is  never  a  bad  one  "  (meaning,  "  Success  comes  to  those 
who  wait "). 

Our  guide's  English  was  put  to  a  severe  strain  in  the  Alcazar,  a 
palace  largely  Oriental,  with  interiors  that  outshine  the  Alhambra  in 
resplendent  color  and  gilding.  There  is,  in  particular,  one  round-domed 
ceiling  constructed  with  an  intricacy  of  interdependent  supports,  cones, 
truncations,  dropping  cusps,  which  is  counterpoint  made  plastic  ;  and 
in  its  inverted  cup -like  cysts  the  burnished  gold  glows  like  clotted 
honey.  But,  for  all  that,  it  does  not  equal  the  matchless  Alhambra  in 
arrangement,  variety,  or  poetic  surroundings.  The  memory  of  King 
Pedro  the  Cruel  is  closely  connected  with  this  Alcazar.  From  it  he 
used  to  make  night  sallies  into  the  town,  by  means  of  what  Vincent 
termed  a  "  soup-tureen  passage,"  which  brought  him  up  through  a  trap- 
door somewhere  in  the  thick  of  his  subjects.  Pedro,  who  lived  in  the 
fourteenth  century,  was  a  monarch  of  a  severely  playful  disposition. 
He  used  to  have  the  heads  of  people  that  were  obnoxious  to  him  cut  off, 
and  hung  up  over  the  lintel  of  his  dressing-room  door,  where  he  could 
look  at  them  while  he  was  putting  in  his  shirt-studs,  or  whenever  he 
felt  bored.  In  the  extensive  gardens,  half  Eastern  and  half  mediaeval, 
behind  the  palace,  among  the  box  and  myrtle  planted  in  forms  of  he- 
raldic devices,  among  the  palms  and  terraces  and  fountains,  there  run 
long  paths,  secretly  perforated  in  places  for  fine  jets  of  water.  These 
are  the  traces  of  a  still  more  ingenious  amusement  invented  by  Pedro. 
From  a  place  of  concealment  he  would  watch  until  the  ladies  of  the 
court,  when  promenading,  had  got  directly  over  one  of  his  underground 
—I  mean  "soup-tureen" — fountains,  then  he  would  turn  a  faucet,  and 
drench  them  with  a  shower-bath  from  below. 

There  are  other  palaces  in  Sevilla,  of  which  the  Duke  of  Montpen- 
sier's  San  Telmo  is  the  chief,  and  a  model  of  uninteresting  magnificence, 
aside  from  the  valuable  collection  of  old  Spanish  masters  which  it  con- 
tains. These  pictures  were  sent  to  Boston  for  a  loan  exhibition  during 
the  last  revolution  in  Spain,  in  1874;  and  although  their  aggregate 
worth  is  easily  surpassed  by  the  pictures  preserved  at  the  public  gal- 
lery of  Sevilla  and  at  the  Caridad  Hospital,  the  Duke  of  Montpensier's 
possessions  embrace  a  masterly  portrait  of  Velazquez,  by  himself  (re- 
peated in  the  Museo  at  Valencia),  and  a  charming  "  Madonna  of  the 
Swaddling  Clothes,"  by  Murillo.  San  Telmo  was  formerly  a  nautical 
college,  having  been    founded   by  the   son   of  Christopher   Columbus. 


A    STREET    CORNER. 


ANDALUSIA   AND    THE    ALHAMBRA.  117 

But  the  long  succession  of  apartments  through  which  the  visitor  is 
ushered  suggests  no  association  with  the  former  maritime  prowess  of 
Spain;  it  is  haunted  rather  by  the  failures  and  disappointments  of  its 
owner,  who,  missing  the  throne  on  which  his  foot  had  almost  rested, 
lived  to  see  his  daughter,  Queen  Mercedes,  die,  and  another  daughter 
mysteriously  follow  Mercedes  into  the  grave  after  being  plighted  to  the 
reigning  King.  The  grounds  attached  to  the  palace  are  very  large,  and 
filled  with  palms,  orange-trees,  and  other  less  tropical  growths;  and 
they  may  be  inspected,  under  the  guidance  of  a  forester  armed  with  an 
innocuous  gun,  by  anybody  who,  after  getting  permission,  is  willing  to 
pay  a  small  fee  and  tire  himself  out  by  an  aimless  ramble. 

Sevilla,  where  Murillo  was  born  and  spent  so  many  years  of  artistic 
activity  in  the  height  of  his  powers,  is  the  next  best  place  after  Madrid 
for  a  study  of  the  sweetest  among  Spanish  painters.  His  house  still 
stands  in  the  Jews'  Quarter,  and  a  few  of  his  best  works  are  kept  in 
the  picture-gallery;  among  them  the  one  which  he  was  wont  to  call 
"my  picture" — "  St.  Thomas  of  Villanueva  Giving  Alms."  Like  the 
"Saint  Elizabeth"  at  Madrid,  it  is  a  grand  study  of  beggary  —  vaga- 
bondism as  you  may  see  it  to-day  throughout  Spain,  but  here  elevated 
by  excellent  design,  charming  sympathy  with  nature,  and  the  resources 
of  a  delightful  colorist,  into  something  possessing  dignity  and  perma- 
nent interest — qualities  which  the  original  phenomenon  lacks.  Murillo 
is  pure,  sincere,  simple,  but  never  profound  ;  though  to  this  he  perhaps 
approaches  more  nearly  in  his  "  St.  Francis  Embracing  the  Crucified 
Saviour"  than  in  any  other  of  his  productions.  Like  others  of  his 
pictures  in  Sevilla,  however,  it  is  painted  in  his  latest  style,  called 
"  vaporoso,"  which,  to  my  thinking,  marks  by  its  meretricious  softness 
of  hazy  atmosphere,  and  its  too  free  coloring,  a  distinct  decadence. 
In  the  church  connected  with  the  Caridad  are  hung  two  colossal  can- 
vases, one  depicting  the  miracle  of  the  loaves  and  fishes,  the  other, 
Moses  striking  the  rock.  This  last  is  better  known  by  its  popular  title, 
"  The  Thirst,"  which  pays  tribute  to  its  masterly  portrayal  of  that  ani- 
mal desire.  In  the  suffering  revealed  by  the  faces  of  the  Israelites,  as 
well  as  the  eager  joy  of  the  crowd  (and  even  of  their  beasts  of  burden) 
on  receiving  relief,  there  is  a  dramatic  contention  of  pain  and  pleasure, 
for  the  rendering  of  which  the  naturalistic  genius  of  the  artist  was  emi- 
nently suited — and  he  has  made  the  most  of  his  opportunity.  The 
representation  is  terribly  true  ;  and  its  range  of  observation  culminates 
in  the  figure  of  the  mother  drinking  first,  though  her  babe  begs  for 
water;  for  this  is  exactly  what  one  would  expect  in  Spanish  mothers 


L18 


SPANISH  VISTAS. 


of  her  class,  whose  faces  are  lined  with  a  sombre  harshness,  a  want  of 
human  kindness  singularly  repellent.  Such  a  picture  is  hardly  agree- 
able;  and  it  must  be  owned  that,  excepting  in  his  gentle,  honest  "Con- 


ANDALUSIA   AND   THE   ALHAMBRA.  Ill) 

ceptions,"  and  a  few  other  pieces,  Murillo  shares  the  earthiness  of  his 
national  school,  the  effect  of  which,  despite  much  magnificence  in  treat- 
ment, is  on  the  whole  depressing. 

The  House  of  Pilate,  owned  by  the  Duke  of  Medina  Celi,  is  quite 
another  sort  of  thing  from  San  Telmo ;  a  roomy,  irregular  edifice,  dating 
from  the  sixteenth  century,  but  almost  wholly  Saracenic.  The  walls  are 
repousses  in  fine  arabesques,  and  sheathed  at  the  base  with  old  color- 
veined  tiles  that  throw  back  the  light  in  flashes  from  their  surface. 
These  also  enamel  the  grand  staircase,  which  makes  a  square  turn  be- 
neath a  roof  described  as  a  media  naranja — natural  Spanish  music  for 
our  plain  "  half-orange  " — the  vault  of  which  is  fretted  cedar  cased  in 
stucco.  At  the  top  landing  is  posted  a  cock  in  effigy,  representing  the 
one  that  crowed  witness  to  Peter's  denial.  Again,  a  balcony  is  shown 
which  stands  for  that  at  which  Pilate  washed  his  hands  before  the  peo- 
ple ;  and  in  fine,  the  whole  place  is  net-worked  with  fancies  of  this  kind, 
identifying  it  with  the  scene  of  Christ's  trial.  For  it  was  the  whim  of 
the  lordly  founder  to  make  his  house  the  starting-point  for  a  Via  Crucis, 
marking  the  path  of  Jesus  on  his  way  to  crucifixion,  and  these  devices 
were  adopted  to  heighten  the  verisimilitude  of  the  scene.  In  Passion- 
week  pilgrims  come  to  pray  at  the  several  "  stations  "  along  the  route 
to  the  figurative  Calvary  at  the  end  of  the  Via. 

Into  the  Duke  of  Montpensier's  garden  stare  the  plebeian,  commer- 
cial— let  us  hope  unenvious — windows  of  the  government  tobacco  fac- 
tory ;  an  enormous  building,  guarded  like  a  fort  to  prevent  the  smug- 
gling out  of  tobacco.  Indeed,  every  one  of  the  three  thousand  women 
employed  is  carefully  watched  for  the  same  purpose  as  she  passes  forth 
at  the  general  evening  dismissal.  Mounting  the  broad  stairs  of  stone, 
I  heard  a  peculiar  medley  of  light  sounds  in  the  distance.  If  a  lot  of 
steam-looms  were  endowed  with  the  faculty  of  throwing  out  falsetto 
and  soprano  notes  instead  of  their  usual  inhuman  click,  the  effect  could 
not  be  more  uninterrupted  than  this  subdued  merry  buzzing.  It  was  the 
chatter  of  the  working-girls  in  the  cigarette  room.  As  we  stepped  over 
the  threshold  these  sounds  continued  with  crescendo  effect,  ourselves  be- 
ing taken  for  the  theme.  At  least  one  hundred  girls  fixed  their  atten- 
tion on  us,  delivering  a  volley  of  salutations,  jokes,  and  general  remarks. 

"What  do  you  seek,  little  senor?  You  will  get  no  papelitos  here!" 
exclaimed  one,  pretty  enough  to  venture  on  sauciness. 

"French,  French!  don't  you  see?"  another  said;  and  her  compan- 
ions, in  airy  tones,  begged  us  to  disburse  a  few  cuartos,  which  are  cent- 
and-a-quarter  pieces. 


L20  SPANISH   VIS  IAS. 

There  was  one  young  person  of  a  satirical  turn  who  affected  to 
approve  a  very  small  beard  which  one  of  us  had  raised  incidentally 
in  travelling.  She  stroked  her  own  smooth  cheek,  and  carolled  out, 
"  What  a  pretty  barbule  !" 

They  certainly  were  not  enslaved  to  conventionality,  though  they 
may  be  to  necessity.  They  seemed  to  enjoy  themselves,  too.  Their 
eyes  Hashed  ;  they  broke  into  laughter;  they  bent  their  heads  to  give 
effect  to  the  regulation  flat  curls  on  their  temples,  and  all  the  time 
their  nimble  fingers  never  stopped  filling  cigarettes,  rolling  the  papers, 
whisking  them  into  bundles,  and  seizing  fresh  pinches  of  tobacco.  In 
all  there  were  three  or  four  hundred  of  them,  and  some  of  them  had  a 
spendthrift,  common  sort  of  beauty,  which,  owing  to  their  Southern  vi- 
vacity and  fine  physique,  had  the  air  of  being  more  than  it  really  was. 
At  first  glance  there  appeared  to  be  a  couple  of  hundred  other  girls 
hung  up  against  the  walls  and  pillars  ;  but  these  turned  out  to  be  only 
the  skirts  and  boots  of  the  workers,  which  are  kept  carefully  away  from 
the  smouch  of  the  cigarette  trays,  so  as  to  maintain  the  proverbially 
neat  appearance  of  their  wearers  on  the  street.  Some  of  the  women, 
however,  were  scornful  and  morose,  and  others  pale  and  sad.  It  was 
easy  to  guess  why,  when  we  saw  their  babies  lying  in  improvised  box- 
cradles  or  staggering  about  naked,  as  if  intoxicated  with  extreme  youth 
and  premature  misery,  or  as  if  blindly  beginning  a  search  for  their  fa- 
thers— something  none  of  them  will  ever  find.  We  laid  a  few  coppers 
in  the  cradles,  and  went  on  to  the  cigar-room. 

It  was  much  the  same,  excepting  that  the  soberness  of  experience 
there  partially  took  the  place  of  the  giddiness  rampant  among  the  cig- 
arette girls.  There  were  some  appalling  old  crones  among  the  thou- 
sand individuals  who  rolled,  chopped,  gummed,  and  tied  cigars  at  the 
low  tables  distributed  through  a  heavily  groined  stone  hall  choked 
with  thick  pillars,  and  some  six  hundred  or  seven  hundred  yards  in 
length.  Others,  on  the  contrary,  looked  blooming  and  coquettish. 
Many  were  in  startling  deshabille,  resorted  to  on  account  of  the  intense 
July  heat,  and  hastened  to  draw  pretty panuelos  of  variegated  dye  over 
their  bare  shoulders  when  they  saw  us  coming.  Here,  too,  there  was  a 
large  nursery  business  being  carried  on,  with  a  very  damaged  article  of 
child,  smeary,  sprawling,  and  crying.  Nor  was  it  altogether  cheering  to 
observe  now  and  then  a  woman  who,  having  dissipated  too  late  the 
night  before,  sat  fast  asleep  with  her  head  in  the  cigar  dust  of  the  table. 
"  Ojala!  May  God  do  her  work  !"  cried  one  of  her  friends.  If  he 
did  not,  it  was  not  because  there  was  any  lack  of  shrines  in  the  factory. 


ANDALUSIA   AND   THE   ALHAMBRA. 


12  L 


They  were  erected  here  and  there  against  the  wall,  with  gilt  images 
and  candles  arrayed  in  front  of  a  white  sheet,  and  occasionally  the  older 
women  knelt  at  their  devotions  before  them.  I  don't  object  to  the 
shrines,  but  it  struck  me  that  a  good  creche  system  for  the  children 
might  not  come  amiss. 

As  to  the  factory-girls  smoking  cigarettes  in  public,  it  is  an  operatic 
fiction  :  no  such  practice  is  common  in  Spain.  And  the  beauty  of  these 
Carmens  has  certainly  been  exaggerated.  It  may  be  remarked  here 
that,  as  an  offset  to  occasional  disappointment  arising  from  such  exag- 
gerations, all  Spanish  women  walk  with  astonishing  gracefulness,  a 
natural  and  elastic  step  ;  and  that  is  their  chief 
advantage  over  women  of  other  nations.  Even 
the  chamber-maids  of  Sevilla  were  modelled  on 
a  heroic,  ancient- history  plan,  with  big,  supple 
necks,  and  showed  such  easy  power  in  their 
movements  that  we  half  feared  they  might,  in 
tidying  the  rooms,  pick  us  up  by  mistake  and 
throw  us  away  somewhere  to  perish  miserably 
in  a  dust-heap.  Why  there  should  be  so  much 
inborn  ease  and  freedom  expressed  in  the  man- 
ner of  women  who  are  guarded  with  Oriental 
precautions,  I  don't  know.  Andalusian  fathers 
have,  no  doubt,  the  utmost  confidence  in  their 
daughters,  but  at  the  same  time  they  save  them 
the  trouble  of  taking  care  of  themselves  by  put- 
ting iron  gratings  on  the  windows.  The  reja, 
the  domestic  gittern,  is  very  common  in  Sevilla. 
The  betrothed  suitor,  if  he  is  quite  correct,  must  "Stone  walls  do  not  a  pris- 
hold    his    tender    interviews    with    his    mistress      wolima^' 

JNor  iron  bars  a  cage. 

through    its    forbidding    bars.      My    companion 

actually  saw  a  handsome  young  fellow  standing  on  the  sidewalk,  and 

conducting  one  of  these  peculiar  tetc-a-tctcs. 

Every  house  is,  furthermore,  provided  with  a  patio.  The  facades, 
as  a  rule,  are  monotonous  and  unspeakably  plain,  but  the  poorest  dwell- 
ing always  has  its  airy  court  set  with  shrubs,  and  perhaps  provided  with 
water.  They  are  tiled,  as  most  rooms  are  in  Spain — a  good  precaution 
against  vermin,  which  unluckily  is  not  infallible  as  regards  fleas,  which 
search  the  traveller -in  Spain  even  more  rigorously  than  the  customs 
officers  or  the  Civil  Guards.  The  flea  is  still  and  small,  like  the  voice  of 
conscience,  but  that  is  the  only  moral  thing  about  him.     In  the  Penin- 

8* 


122  SPANISH   VISTAS. 

sula  I  found  him  peculiarly  unregenerate.  As  to  these  patios,  the  well- 
to-do  protect  them  from  the  open  vestibule  leading  to  the  street  by 
gates  of  ornamental  open  iron,  letting  the  air-currents  play  through  the 
unroofed  court,  and  sometimes  with  movable  screens  behind  the  gate. 
Chess-tables  and  coffee  are  carried  out  there  in  the  evening,  and  the 
music-room  gives  conveniently  upon  the  cool  central  space. 

In  Sevilla,  if  you  hear  a  shrill  little  bell  tinkling  in  the  street,  do  not 
imagine  that  a  bicycle  is  coming.  One  day  a  slight  tintinnabulation 
announced  the  approach  of  a  funeral  procession,  headed  by  two  gentle- 
men wearing  round  caps  and  blue  gowns,  on  which  were  sewed  flaming 
red  hearts.  One  bore  a  small  alms-basket ;  the  other  rung  the  bell  to 
attract  contributions.  It  appears  that  this  is  the  manner  appointed  for 
sundry  brothers  who  maintain  the  Caridad,  a  hospital  for  indigent  old 
men.  The  members,  though  pursuing  their  ordinary  mode  of  life,  are 
banded  for  the  support  of  the  institution.  Necessarily  rich  and  aristo- 
crats, it  matters  not :  when  one  of  them  dies,  he  must  be  buried  by 
means  of  offerings  collected  on  the  way  to  his  grave.  This  Caridad,  let 
me  add,  was  founded  by  Don  Miguel  de  Manera,  a  friend  of  Don  Juan, 
and  a  reformed  rake.  His  epitaph  reads:  "Here  lie  the  ashes  of  the 
worst  man  that  ever  was."  I  suspect  a  lingering  vanity  in  that  asser- 
tion, but  at  any  rate  the  tombstone  tries  hard  not  to  lie. 

Fashionable  society,  after  recovering  from  its  mid-day  siesta,  and  be- 
fore going  to  the  theatre  or  ball,  turns  itself  out  for  an  airing  on  Las 
Delicias — "The  Delights" — an  arbored  road  running  two  or  three  miles 
along  the  river-side.  Nowhere  can  you  see  more  magnificent  horses 
than  there.  Their  race  was  formerly  crossed  with  the  finest  mettle  of 
Barbary  studs,  and  their  blood,  carried  into  Kentucky  through  Mexico, 
may  have  had  its  share  in  the  victories  of  Parole,  Iroquois,  and  Foxhall. 
A  more  strictly  popular  resort  is  the  New  Plaza,  where  citizens  attend 
a  concert  and  fireworks  twice  a  week  in  summer,  and  keep  their  dis- 
tressed babies  up  till  midnight  to  see  the  fun.  They  are  less  demon- 
strative than  one  would  expect.  An  American  reserve  hangs  over 
them.  Perfect  informality  reigns ;  they  saunter,  chat,  and  laugh  with- 
out constraint,  yet  their  enjoyment  is  taken  in  a  languid,  half -pen- 
sive way.  In  the  various  foot-streets  where  carriages  do  not  appear — 
the  most  notable  of  which  is  the  winding  one  called  simply  Sierpes, 
"  The  Serpents  " — the  same  quietude  prevails.  Lined  with  attractive 
bazar-like  shops,  and  overhung  by  "sails"  drawn  from  roof  to  roof, 
which  make  them  look  like  telescopic  booths,  these  streets  form 
shady  avenues   down  which  figures  glide  unobtrusively :   sometimes  a 


ANDALUSIA  AND  THE  ALHAMBRA. 


12; 


cigarette   girl  in  a  pale   geranium  skirt,  with  a  crimson   shawl ;   some- 
times a  lady  in  black,  with  lace-draped  head  ;  and  perhaps  an  erroneous 


IN    "  THE    SERPENT." 


man  in  a  heavy  blue  cloak,  saving  up  warmth  for  next  winter;   or  a 
peasant  re-arranging  his  scarlet  waist-cloth  by  tucking  one  end  into  his 


1^-i  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

trousers,  then  turning  round  and  round  till  be  is  wound  up  like  a 
watch-spring,  and  finally  putting  his  needle-pointed  knife  into  the  folds, 
read}-  for  the  next  quarrel. 

Once  we  caught  sight  of  two  belted  forms  with  carbines  stealing 
across  the  alley,  far  down,  as  if  for  a  flank  movement  against  us.  Oh, 
honor  !  the}'  were  the  Civil  Guards,  who  were  always  blighting  us  at 
the  happiest  moment.  As  they  did  not  succeed  in  capturing  us,  we  be- 
lieved they  must  have  lost  themselves  in  one  of  the  chiles  that  squirm 
through  the  houses  with  no  visible  intention  of  ever  coming  out  any- 
where. Velveteen  wanted  to  go  and  look  for  their  bones,  thinking 
they  had  perished  of  starvation,  but  I  opportunely  reflected  that  we 
might  ourselves  be  lost  in  the  attempt.  No  wonder  assassination  has 
been  frequent  in  these  narrow  windings  !  Once  astray  in  them,  that 
would  be  the  easiest  way  out. 

Shall  we  go  to  the  Thursday-morning  fair,  which  begins,  in  order  to 
avoid  the  great  heats,  at  6  A.M.?  Come,  then  ;  and  if  we  are  up  early, 
we  may  pass  on  the  way  through  the  low -walled  market,  gay  with 
fruits,  flowers,  vegetables,  where  bread  from  Alcala  in  the  exact  pattern 
of  buttercup  blossoms  is  sold,  and  where,  at  a  particularly  bloody  and 
ferocious  stall,  butchers  are  dispensing  the  meat  of  bulls  slaughtered  at 
the  fights.  The  fair  is  held  in  Fair  Street.  A  frantic  miscellany  of  old 
iron,  of  clothing,  crockery,  mat  baskets,  and  large  green  pine-cones  full 
of  plump  seeds,  which,  when  ripened,  taste  like  butternuts,  is  set  forth. 
Full  on  the  pavement  is  spread  an  array  of  second-hand  shoes — the 
proverbial  dead  men's,  perhaps — temptingly  blacked.  Pale  cinereous 
earthen  vessels,  all  becurled  with  raised  patterns  like  intelligent  wax- 
drippings,  but  exceedingly  well  shaped,  likewise  monopolize  the  thor- 
oughfare, put  in  peril  only  by  random  dogs,  which,  having  quarrelled 
over  the  offal  freely  thrown  into  the  street  for  them,  sometimes  race 
disreputably  through  the  brittle  ware.  At  apt  corners  old  women  have 
set  up  their  frying-pans  under  Bedouin  tents,  and  are  cooking  calentitos 
— long  coils  of  dough  browned  in  hot  olive  oil — which  are  much  sought 
as  a  relish  for  the  matutinal  chocolate.  Omnipresent,  of  course,  are 
those  water  stalls  that,  in  Sevilla  especially,  acquire  eminent  dignity 
by  their  row  of  stout  jars,  and  their  complicated  cordage  rigged  across 
from  one  house-top  to  another,  so  as  to  sustain  shadowing  canvas  can- 
opies. There  is  a  great  crowd,  but  even  the  fair  is  comparatively  quiet, 
like  the  other  phases  of  local  life. 

The  absence  of  wagon-traffic  in  the  town  creates,  notwithstanding 
its  reposeful  character,  a  new  relative  scale  of  noises,  and  there  is  conse- 


ANDALUSIA   AND   THE   ALHAMBRA.  125 

quently  good  store  of  fretting  attacks  on  the  hearing  in  Sevilla.  With 
very  early  morning  begins  the  deep  clank  of  bells,  under  the  chins  of 
asses  that  go  the  rounds  to  deliver  domestic  milk  from  their  own  ud- 
ders. There  is  no  end  of  noise.  Even  in  the  elegant  dining-room 
where  we  ate,  lottery-dealers  would  howl  at  us  through  the  barred  win- 
dows, or  a  donkey  outside  would  rasp  our  ears  with  his  intolerable 
braying.  Then  the  street  cries  are  incessant.  At  night  the  crowds 
chafe  and  jabber  till  the  latest  hours,  and  after  eleven  the  watchmen 
begin  their  drawl  of  unearthly  sadness,  alternating  with  the  occult  and 
remorseless  industry  of  the  mosquito;  until,  somewhere  about  dawn, 
you  drop  perspiring  into  an  oppressively  tropical  dream-land,  with 
the  sercnds  last  cry  ringing  in  your  ears:  "Hail,  Mary,  most  pure! 
Three  o'clock  has  struck." 

This  is  the  weird  tune  to  which  he  chants  it: 


A  -  ve      Marl  -  a       pur-is -si- ma  !    Las     tre  -  cs         hantoc-  ca    -    do. 

II. 

An  English  lady,  conversing  with  a  Sevillan  gentleman  who  had 
been  making  some  rather  tall  statements,  asked  him  :  "  Are  you  telling 
me  the  truth  ?" 

"  Madam,"  he  replied,  gravely,  but  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  "  I  am 
an  Andalusian  !"  At  which  the  surrounding  listeners,  his  fellow-coun- 
trymen, broke  into  an  appreciative  laugh. 

So  proverbial  is  the  want  of  veracity,  or,  to  put  it  more  genially,  the 
imagination,  of  these  Southerners.  Their  imagination  will  explain  also 
the  vogue  of  their  brief,  sometimes  pathetic,  yet  never  more  than  half- 
expressed,  scraps  of  song,  which  are  sung  with  so  much  feeling  through- 
out the  kingdom  to  crude  barbaric  airs,  and  loved  alike  by  gentle  and 
simple.  I  mean  the  Peteneras  and  Malaguenas.  There  are  others  of 
the  same  general  kind,  sung  to  a  variety  of  dances  ;  but  the  ruling  tunes 
are  alike — usually  pitched  in  a  minor  key,  and  interspersed  with  pas- 
sionate trills,  long  quavers,  unexpected  ups  and  downs,  which  it  re- 
quires no  little  skill  to  render.  I  have  seen  gypsy  singers  grow  apoplec- 
tic with  the  long  breath  and  volume  of  sound  which  they  threw  into 
these  eccentric  melodies  amid  thunders  of  applause.  It  is  not  a  high 
nor  a  cultivated  order  of  music,  but  there  lurks  in  it  something  conso- 
nant with  the  broad,  stimulating  shine  of  the  sun,  the  deep  red  earth, 


L26  SPANISH   VISTAS. 

the  thick,  strange-flavored  wine  of  the  Peninsula;  its  constellated  nights, 
and  clear  daylight  gleamed  with  flying  gold  from  the  winn owing-field. 
The  quirks  of  the  melody  are  not  unlike  those  of  very  old  English  bal- 
lads, and  some  native  composer  with  originality  should  be  able  to 
expand  their  deep,  bold,  primitive  ululations  into  richer,  lasting  forms. 
The  fantastic  picking  of  the  mandurra  accompaniment  reminds  me  of 
Chinese  music  with  which  I  have  been  familiar.  Endless  preludes  and 
interminable  windings-up  enclose  the  minute  kernel  of  actual  song;  but 
to  both  words  and  music  is  lent  a  repressed  touching  power  and  sug- 
gestiveness  by  repeating,  as  is  always  done,  the  opening  bars  and  first 
words  at  the  end,  and  then  breaking  off  in  mid-strain.     For  instance: 

"All  the  clay  I  am  happy, 
But  at  evening  orison 
Like  a  millstone  grows  my  heart. 
All  the  day  I  am  happy."  \_Limitless  Guitar  Solo.] 

It  is  like  the  never-ended  strain  of  Schumann's  "Warum?"  The 
words  are  always  simple  and  few — often  bald.  One  of  the  most  popu- 
lar pieces  amounts  simply  to  this : 

"Both  Lagartijo  and  Frascuelo 
Swordsmen  are  of  quality. 
Since  when  they  the  bulls  are  slaying — 
O  damsel  of  my  heart  ! — 
They  do  it  with  serenity. 
Both  Lagartijo  and  Frascuelo 
Swordsmen  are  of  quality." 

But  such  evident  ardor  of  feeling  and  such  wealth  of  voice  are 
breathed  into  these  fragments  that  they  become  sufficient.  The  people 
supply  from  their  imagination  what  is  barely  hinted  in  the  lines.  Under 
their  impassive  exteriors  they  preserve  memories,  associations,  emotions 
of  burning  intensity,  which  throng  to  aid  their  enjoyment,  as  soon  as 
the  muffled  strings  begin  to  vibrate  and  syllables  of  love  or  sorrow  are 
chanted.     I  recalled  to  a  young  and  pretty  Spanish  lady  one  line, 

"  Pajarito,  tu  que  vuelas." 

She  flushed,  fire  came  to  her  eyes,  and  with  clasped  hands  she  mur- 
mured, "  Oh,  what  a  beautiful  song  it  is  !"  Yet  it  contains  only  four 
lines.     Here  is  a  translation  : 

"Bird,  little  bird  that  wheelest 
Through  God's  fair  worlds  in  the  sky, 


"ALL   THE    DAY    I    AM    HAITY, 


ANDALUSIA   AND    THE   ALHAMBRA.  129 

Say  if  thou  anywhere  seest 
A  being  more  sad  than   I. 
Bird,  little  bird  that  wheelest." 

Some  of  these  little  compositions  are  roughly  humorous,  and  others 
very  grotesque,  appearing  to  foreigners  empty  and  ridiculous. 

The  following  one  has  something  of  the  odd  imagery  and  clever  in- 
consequence of  our  negro  improvisations: 

"  As  I  was  gathering  pine-cones 
In  the  sweet  pine  woods  of  love, 
My  heart  was  cracked  by  a  splinter 
That  flew  from  the  tree  above. 
I'm  dead  :   pray  for  me,  sweethearts  !" 

There  was  one  evening  in  Granada  when  we  sat  in  a  company  of 
some  two  dozen  people,  and  one  after  another  of  the  ladies  took  her 
turn  in  singing  to  the  guitar  of  a  little  girl,  a  musical  prodigy.  But 
they  were  all  outdone  by  Candida,  the  brisk,  naive,  handsome  serving- 
girl,  who  was  invited  in,  but  preferred  to  stand  outside  the  grated  win- 
dow, near  the  lemon-trees  and  pomegranates,  looking  in,  with  a  flower 
in  her  hair,  and  pouring  into  the  room  her  warm  contralto — that  voice 
so  common  among  Spanish  peasant-women  —  which  seemed  to  have 
absorbed  the  clear  dark  of  Andalusian  nights  when  the  stars  glitter 
like  lance -points  aimed  at  the  earth.  Through  the  twanging  of  the 
strings  we  could  hear  the  rush  of  water  that  gurgles  all  about  the  Al- 
hambra ;  and,  just  above  the  trees  that  stirred  in  the  perfumed  air  with- 
out, we  knew  the  unsentinelled  walls  of  the  ancient  fortress  were  frown- 
ing. The  most  elaborate  piece  was  one  meant  to  accompany  a  dance 
called  the  Zapatcado,  or  "kick-dance."     It  begins: 

"Tie  me,  with  my  fiery  charger, 
To  your  window's  iron  lattice. 
Though  he  break  loose,  my  fiery  charger, 
Me  he  cannot  tear  away ;" 

and  then  passes  into  rhyme  : 

"  Much  I  ask  of  San  Francisco, 
Much  St.  Thomas  I  implore  ; 
But  of  thee,  my  little  brown  girl, 
Ah,  of  thee   I  ask  much  more  !" 


The  singing  went  on 


"  In  Triana  there  are  rogues, 
And  there  are  stars  in  heaven. 


130 


SPANISH    VISTAS. 


Four  and  one  rods  away 
There  lives,  there  lives  a  woman. 
Flowers  there  are  in  gardens, 
And  beautiful  girls  in  Sevilla." 

Nevertheless,  we  had  been  glad  to  leave  Sevilla,  especially  since  dur- 
ing our  stay  an  epidemic  was  in  progress,  graphically  called  "the  min- 
ute," from  its  supposed  characteristic  of  finishing  off  a  victim  ready  for 
the  undertaker  in  exactly  sixty 
seconds  after  attacking  him. 

The  inhabitants  of  Granada 
likewise  seemed  to  be  a  good 
deal  occupied  in  burying  them- 
selves— a  habit  which  became 
confirmed,  no  doubt,  during  the 
wars  and  insurrections  of  their 
ancestors,  and  is  aided  to-day 
by  bad  sanitary  arrangements. 
We  saw  a  dead  man  being  car- 
ried in  the  old  Moorish  way, 
with  his  forehead  bared  to  the 
sky,  a  green  wreath  on  his  head, 
his  cold  hands  emerging  from 
the  shroud  in  their  last  prayer- 
clasp,  and  quite  indifferent  to 
the  pitiless  sun  that  beat  down 
on  them.  But,  perched  as  we 
were  on  the  Alhambra  Hill, 
high  above  the  baking  city, 
such  spectacles  were  transient 
specks  in  the  world  of  fascina- 
tion that  infolded  us. 

Granada  rests  in  what  might 
pass  for  the  Happy  Valley  of 
Rasselas,  a  deep  stretch  of  thir- 
ty miles,  called  simply  the  Vega, 
and  tilled  from  end  to  end  on 
a  system  of  irrigation  establish 
ed  by  the  Moslem  conquerors. 
Rugged  mountains,  bastions  of 
a  more  than   Cyclopean   earth-  granada  undertaker. 


ANDALUSIA    AND   THE   ALHAMBRA. 


131 


THE   MOORISH   GATE,  SEVILLA. 


work,  girdle  and  defend  it.  To  penetrate  them  you  must  leave  the  hot 
rolling  lands  of  the  west,  and  confront  steep  heights  niched  here  and 
there  for  creamy-hued  villages  or  deserted  castles,  and  sentried  by  small 
Moorish  watch-towers  rising  like  chessmen  on  the  highest  crests.  The 
olive-trees  spread  on  wide  slopes  of  tanned  earth  were  like  thick  dots 


132  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

of  black  connected  in  one  design,  and  seemed  to  suggest  the  possible 
origin  of  Spanish  lace.  The  shapes  of  the  mountains,  too,  were  extrav- 
agant. One  of  the  most  singular,  the  Pcuon  de  los  Enamorados,  near 
Antequera,  showed  us  by  accident  at  a  distance  the  exact  profile  of 
George  Washington,  with  every  detail  after  Stuart,  hewn  out  in  moun- 
tain size  and  looking  directly  up  into  the  heavens  from  a  position  of 
supine  rigidity.  Our  first  intimation  of  a  near  approach  to  Granada 
was  a  long  stretch  of  blanched  folds  showing  through  evening  mistiness 
in  the  southern  sky,  like  the  drapings  of  some  celestial  tabernacle,  so 
high  up  that  they  might  have  been  clouds  but  for  a  certain  persistent, 
awful  immobility  that  controlled  them.  Their  spectral  whiteness,  de- 
tached from  the  earth,  hung,  it  is  true,  ten  thousand  feet  above  the  sea- 
level  ;  but  they  were  not  clouds.  They  were  the  summits  of  the  Sierra 
Nevada,  the  great  Snowy  Range. 

Twenty  miles  to  the  north  of  these  frosty  heights  stands  the  Al- 
hambra  Hill,  shrouded  in  dark  trees,  and  dominated  by  the  Mountain 
of  the  Sun.  The  names  are  significant — Snowy  Range  and  Mountain 
of  the  Sun — for  the  landscape  that  unrolls  itself  between  these  ridges 
is  a  mixture  of  torrid  glow  and  Alpine  coldness.  I  stood  in  a  hanging 
garden  delicious  with  aromatic  growths,  on  the  ramparts  beside  the 
great  Lookout  Tower,  the  city  lying  like  a  calcareous  deposit  packed 
in  the  gorge  of  the  Darro's  stream  below.  Across  the  Vega  I  beheld 
that  sandy  pass  of  the  hills  through  which  Boabdil  withdrew  after  his 
surrender — the  Last  Sigh  of  the  Moor.  Fierce  sunlight  smote  upon 
me,  spattering  the  leaves  like  metal  in  flux  ;  but  the  snow-fields  man- 
tling the  blue  wall  of  the  Sierra  loomed  over  the  landscape  so  distinct 
as  to  seem  within  easy  hail,  and  I  felt  their  breath  in  a  swreet  coolness 
that  drifted  by  from  time  to  time.  The  other  mountains  were  bare 
and  golden  brown.  But  in  their  midst  the  mild  Vega,  inlaid  with 
curves  of  the  River  Genii,  receded  in  breadths  of  alternate  green  or- 
chard and  mellow  rye,  where  distant  villages  are  scattered  "  like  white 
antelopes  at  pasture,"  says  Senor  Don  Contreras,  the  accomplished 
curator  of  the  Alhambra.  It  was  not  like  a  dream,  for  dreams  are  imi- 
tative ;  nor  like  reality,  for  that  is  too  unstable.  It  was  blended  of  both 
these,  with  a  purely  ideal  strand.  As  I  looked  at  the  rusty  red  walls 
and  abraded  towers  palisading  the  hill,  the  surroundings  became  like 
some  miraculous  web.  and  these  ruins,  concentring  the  threads,  were 
the  shattered  cocoon  from  which  it  had  been  spun. 

The  Alhambra  was  originally  a  village  on  the  height,  perhaps  the 
first    local    settlement,  surrounded   by  a   wall   for  defensive  purposes. 


A    WATER-CARRIER. 


ANDALUSIA   AND   THE   ALHAMBRA.  135 

The  wall,  which  once  united  a  system  of  thirty-seven  towers,  fringes  the 
irregular  edges  of  the  hill-top  plateau,  describing  an  enclosure  like  a 
rude  crescent  lying  east  and  west.  At  the  west  end  the  hill  contracts 
to  an  anvil  point,  and  on  this  are  grouped  the  works  of  the  citadel  Al- 
cazaba,  governed  by  the  huge  square  Lookout  Tower.  On  a  ridge 
close  to  the  south  stand  the  Vermilion  Towers,  suspected  of  having 
been  mixed  up  with  the  Phoenicians  at  an  early  epoch,  but  not  yet 
fully  convicted  by  the  antiquarians.  The  intervening  glade  receives  a 
steep  road  from  the  city,  and  is  arcaded  with  elms  and  cherries  of  pro- 
digious size,  sent  over  as  saplings  by  the  Duke  of  Wellington  half  a 
century  ago.  There  the  nightingales  sing  in  spring-time,  and  in  sum- 
mer the  boughs  give  perch  to  other  songsters.  Ramps  lead  up  to  the 
top  of  the  hill,  and  on  the  northern  edge  of  its  crescent,  at  the  brink  of 
the  Darro  Valley,  the  Alhambra  Palace  proper  is  lodged. 

We  shall  go  in  by  the  Gate  of  Justice,  through  a  door-way  running 
up  two-thirds  of  its  tower's  height,  and  culminating  in  a  little  horseshoe 
arch,  whereon  a  rude  hand  is  incised — a  favorite  Mohammedan  symbol 
of  doctrine.  We  pass  a  poor  pictured  oratory  of  the  Virgin,  and  some 
lance-rests  of  Ferdinand  V.,  to  worm  our  way  through  the  grim  passage 
that  cautiously  turns  twice  before  emerging  through  an  arch  of  pointed 
brick  with  enamellings  on  argil,  into  the  open  gravelled  Place  of  the  Res- 
ervoirs. This  is  undermined  by  a  fettered  lake,  generally  attributed  to 
the  Moors,  but  more  probably  made  after  Isabella's  conquest.  On  the 
right  side,  behind  hedges  and  low  trees,  is  reared  that  gray  rectangular 
Graeco-Roman  pile  which  Charles  V.  had  the  audacity  to  begin.  His 
palace  is  deservedly  unfinished,  yet  its  intrusion  is  effective.  It  makes 
you  think  of  the  terror-striking  helmet  of  unearthly  size  in  the  Castle 
of  Otranto,  and  looks  indeed  like  a  piece  of  mediaeval  armor  flung  down 
here  to  challenge  vainly  the  wise  Arabian  beauty  of  the  older  edifice. 
To  the  Place  of  Reservoirs  come  in  uninterrupted  course  all  day  the 
tinkling  and  tasselled  mules  that  carry  back  to  the  city  jars  of  fresh 
water,  kept  cool  in  baskets  filled  with  leaves.  And  hither  walk  toward 
sunset  the  majos  and  majas — dandies  and  coquettes — to  stroll  and  gos- 
sip for  an  hour,  even  as  we  saw  them  when  we  were  lingering  at  the 
northern  parapet  one  evening  and  looking  off  through  the  clear  air, 
in  which  a  million  rose-leaves  seemed  to  have  dipped  and  left  their 
faint  color. 


136  SPANISH    VISTAS. 


III. 

THE  veritable  entrance  to  the  Alhambra  is  now  buried  within  some 
Liter  buildings  added  to  the  original.  But  it  never,  though  Irving  nat- 
urally supposed  the  contrary,  had  a  grand  portal  in  the  middle.  Gor- 
geous and  showy  means  of  ingress  would  not  have  suited  the  Oriental 
mind.  The  exterior  of  the  palace  and  all  the  towers  is  dull,  blank,  un- 
communicative. Their  coating  of  muddy  or  ferruginous  cement,  mark- 
ed here  and  there  by  slim  upright  oblongs  of  black  window  spaces,  was 
not  meant  to  reveal  the  luxury  of  loveliness  concealed  within.  The 
Moslem  idea  was  to  secrete  the  abodes  of  earthly  bliss,  nor  even  to  hint 
at  them  by  outward  signs  of  ostentation. 

So  the  petty  modern  door  cut  for  convenience  is  not  wholly  out  of 
keeping.  It  ushers  one  with  a  sudden  surprise  into  the  presence  of 
those  marvels  which  have  been  for  years  a  distant  enticing  vision.  You 
find  yourself,  in  fact,  wandering  into  the  Alhambra  courts  as  if  by  acci- 
dent. The  first  one — the  Court  of  the  Pond,  or  of  the  Myrtles — arrays 
before  us  beauty  enough  and  to  spare.  But  it  is  only  the  beginning. 
A  long  tank  occupies  the  centre,  brimmed  with  water  from  a  rill  that 
gurgles,  by  day  and  night  forever,  with  a  low,  half-laughing  sob.  Around 
it  level  plates  of  white  marble  are  riveted  to  the  ground,  and  two  hedges 
of  clipped  myrtle  border  the  placid  surface.  At  the  nearest  end  a  dou- 
ble gallery  closes  the  court,  imposed  on  seven  arches  so  evenly  rounded 
as  to  emulate  the  Roman,  but  upheld  by  columns  of  amazing  slender- 
ness ;  and  in  the  spandrels  are  translucent  arabesques  inlaced  with  fil- 
lets, radiating  leaf -points,  and  loose  knots.  Above  these  blink  some 
square  windows,  shut  as  with  frozen  gauze  by  minute  stone  lattice- 
work, over  fifteen  hundred  twisted  or  cubed  pieces  being  combined  in 
each.  From  there  the  women  of  the  harem  used  to  witness  pageantries 
and  ceremonies  that  took  place  in  the  court ;  and  over  the  veiled  win- 
dows is  a  roofed  balcony  repeating  the  lower  arches,  which  would  serve 
for  spectators  not  under  ban  of  invisibility. 

Various  low  doors  lead  from  this  Court  of  the  Pond,  giving  sealed 
intimation  of  what  may  lie  beyond,  but  disclosing  little.  One  turns 
naturally,  however,  to  the  Hall  of  Ambassadors  at  the  other  end,  in  the 
mighty  Tower  of  Comares.  The  transverse  arcade  at  the  entrance  is 
roofed  with  shining  vitreous-faced  tiles  of  blue  and  white  that  also  carry 


ANDALUSIA    AND   THE   ALHAMBRA. 


137 


BIT   OF   ARC! 
THE 


From  a  photograph  by  J.  Laurent  &  Co.,  Madrid.  ^l^^^\#^^^;-^7^'  J 

their  stripes  over  the  little  cupola,  to       "^^gpv^^^i^SH 
which  many  similar  ones   doubtless  for-       ^^V^Jw^-^ 
merly   surrounded    the   court,  and    in    the         C.'^' 
cloister  underneath  the  inmates  reclined  on 
divans  glinting  with  rippled  gold-thread  and 
embroidered  with  colored  silks.      Then   comes 
the  anteroom,  the  Chamber  of  Benediction  (usu- 
ally called  of  the  Boat,  on  account  of  its  long, 
scooped  ceiling),  which  is  like  the  hollow  of  a  cap- 
sized boat  suspended  over  us,  and  darkened  with 
deep  lapis  lazuli.     There  are   some   low  doors   in 
the  wall,  meant  for  the  humble  approach  of  slaves 
when    serving    their   masters,  or    leading    to    lost 
inner  corridors  and  stairways  now  fallen  into  dust. 
But  the  large  central  arch  conducts  at  once  into 
the    Hall    of   the    Ambassadors,  after    we    have 
passed  some  niches  in  which  of  old  were  set  en- 
carmined   water -jars   of  sweet-scented   clay.     Beside    these 

9* 


may  have 


L38  Spanish  vistas. 

stood  the  carvcn  racks  for  weapons  of  jewelled  hilt  and  tempered 
blade. 

In  the  Chamber  of  Benediction  begin  those  multitudinous  ara- 
besques by  which  the  Alhambra  is  most  widely  known.  In  the  hall 
beyond  they  flow  out  with  unimpeded  grace  and  variety  over  the  walls 
of  an  immensely  high  and  nobly  spacious  apartment,  pierced  on  three 
sides  at  the  floor  level  with  arched  ajiinez*  windows  halved  by  a  thin, 
flower-headed  column,  in  the  embrasures  of  which,  enchased  with  ce- 
ment, are  mouldings  that  overrun  the  groundwork  in  bands,  curves,  dia- 
monds, scrolls,  delicate  as  the  ribs  of  leaves  or  as  vine  tendrils.  Within 
these  soft  convolved  lines,  arranged  to  make  the  most  florid  detail  trib- 
utary to  the  general  effect,  Arabic  characters  twisted  into  the  design 
contain  outbursts  of  poetry  celebrating  the  edifice,  the  room  itself. 
"As  if  I  were  the  arc  of  the  rainbow,"  says  one  inscription  in  the  hoop- 
ed door-way,  "  and  the  sun  were  Lord  Abul  Hachach."  The  windows 
look  forth  upon  the  sheer  northern  fall  of  the  hill ;  the  waving  tree-tops 
scarcely  rising  to  the  balcony  under  the  sills.  They  look  upon  old 
Granada  dozing  below  in  the  unmitigated  sunlight,  with  here  and  there 
the  sculptured  columns  of  a  patio  visible  among  the  houses  on  the  op- 
posite slope  ;  and  farther  away  the  Sesame  doors  of  gypsy  habitations 
cut  into  the  solid  mountain  above  the  Darro.  One  of  the  most  beauti- 
ful of  glimpses  about  the  Alhambra  is  that  through  the  east  window, 
looking  along  the  parapet  gallery  to  the  Toilet  Tower.  Precipitous 
masonry  plunges  down  among  trees  that  shoot  incredibly  high,  as  if  in- 
cited by  the  lines  of  the  building;  and  on  the  Mountain  of  the  Sun  the 
irregular  lint-white  buildings  of  the  Generalife — an  old  retreat  of  Moor- 
ish sovereigns  and  nobles  —  are  lodged  among  cypresses  and  orange 
thickets.  Within  the  hall  itself  all  is  cool,  subdued,  and  breezy,  and 
the  smooth  vault  of  the  larch-wood  ceiling,  still  dimly  rich  with  azure 
and  gold,  spans  the  area  high  overhead  like  a  solemn  twilight  sky  at 
night. 

It  was  in  this  Tower  of  Comares  that  the  last  King  of  Granada, 
Boabdil,  was  imprisoned  with  his  mother,  Ayeshah,  by  his  stormy  and 
fatuous  father,  Muley  Abul  Hassan,  owing  to  the  rival  influence  of  the 
Morning  Star,  Zoraya,  Hassan's  favorite  wife.  Boabdil  escaped,  being 
let  down  to  the  ground  by  the  scarfs  of  his  mother  and  her  female  at- 
tendants. Years  after,  when  he  had  succeeded  to  the  throne  for  a  brief 
and  hapless   reign,  El  Rey  Chico  (The   Little   King),  as   the   Spaniards 

*  Literally,  "sun-trap." 


ANDALUSIA    AND    THE    ALHAMBRA. 


139 


called  him,  was  led  by  his  mother  into  the  Hall  of  Ambassadors  after 
he  had  capitulated  to  Ferdinand  and  Isabella.  Silently  she  made  its 
circuit   with  him,  and   then,  overcome  with   the  bitterness  of   loss,  she 


THE   TOILET   TOWER. 
From  a  photograph  by  J.  Laurent  &  Co. .Madrid. 

cried:  "Behold  what   thou   art  giving  up,  and  remember  that  all  thy 
forefathers  died  kings  of  Granada,  but  in  thee  the  kingdom  dies  !" 

The  Hall  of  Ambassadors  is  assigned  to  the  epoch  of  the  caliphate. 
Certainly  the  Court  of  Lions  is  invested  with  a  somewhat  different  char- 
acter. Its  arches  are  more  pointed,  more  nearly  Gothic,  and  are  hung 
upon  a  maze  of  exquisitely  slight  columns,  presenting,  as  you  look  in, 


14l  >  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

an  opulent  confusion  of  crinkled  curves  and  wavering  ellipses,  bordered 
with  dropping  points  and  brief  undulations  that  look  like  festoons  of 
heavy  petrified  lace:  as  lace,  heavy;  but  as  architecture,  light.  There 
i>  incalculable  diversity  in  the  proportions,  unevenness  in  the  grouping 
of  the  pillars,  irregularity  in  the  cupolas  ;  yet  through  all  persists  an 
unsurpassable  harmony,  a  sensitive  equilibrium.  The  Hall  of  Justice, 
which  opens  from  it,  and  contains — contrary  to  Mohammedan  princi- 
ples—  some  mysterious  early  Italian  frescoes  depicting  Moorish  and 
Christian  combats,  is  a  grotto  of  stalactites.  All  this  part  of  the  pal- 
ace, one  would  say,  might  have  sprung  from  the  spray  of  those  hidden 
canals  which  brought  the  snow-water  hither,  spouting  up,  then  falling 
and  crystallizing  in  shapes  of  arrested  motion  ;  so  perfect  is  the  geomet- 
rical balance,  so  suave  are  the  flowing  lines.  The  un-Moorish  lions  sus- 
taining the  central  basin  are  meagre  and  crude,  and  the  size  of  the 
court  is  disappointing;  but  it  is  a  miniature  labyrinth  of  beauty.  From 
one  side  you  may  pass  into  the  Hall  of  the  Abencerages,  under  the 
fine  star-shaped  roof  of  which  a  number  of  those  purely  Arab-blooded 
knights  are  said  to  have  been,  at  the  instigation  of  their  half-Christian 
rivals,  the  Zegris,  assembled  at  a  banquet  and  then  murdered.  An  in- 
vitation to  dinner  in  those  days  was  a  doubtful  compliment,  which  a 
gentleman  had  to  think  twice  about  before  accepting. 

On  the  other  side  lies  the  access  to  the  Chamber  of  the  Two  Sisters, 
a  lovely  apartment,  having  a  grooved  bed  in  the  marble  floor  for  a  cur- 
rent of  water  to  course  through  and  run  out  under  the  zigzag-carven 
cedar  door.  Everything  is  exactly  as  you  would  have  it,  and  you  seem 
to  be  straying  through  embodied  reveries  of  Bagdad  and  Damascus. 
But  it  would  be  futile  to  describe  the  myriad  traceries  of  these  rooms; 
the  bevelled  entablatures,  the  elastic  ceilings,  displaying  an  order  and 
multiplicity  of  tiny  relief  as  systematic  as  the  cells  and  tissues  in  a  cut 
pomegranate;  or  the  dadoes  of  colored  tiles,  still  dimly  glistening  with 
glaze,  and  chameleonizing  the  base  of  the  partitions.  The  culmination 
of  microscopic  refinement  comes,  with  a  sigh  of  relief  from  such  an 
overplus  of  sensuous  delight,  in  the  boudoir  of  Lindaraxa,  which  over- 
looks from  a  superb  embayed  window  a  little  oasis  of  fountained  court, 
blooming  with  citrons  and  lemons,  and  bedded  with  violets.  That 
small  garden,  green  and  laughing,  and  interspersed  with  dark  flower- 
mould,  lies  clasped  in  the  branching  wings  of  masonry,  as  simple  and 
refreshing  as  a  dew-drop.  It  is  shut  in  on  the  other  side  by  some  medi- 
aeval rooms  fitted  up  in  heavy  oak  panelling  for  Philip  V.  and  his  sec- 
ond bride,  Elisabetta,  when  with  rare  judgment  they  chose  this  Islam- 


BOUDOIR   OF    LINDARAXA. 


ANDALUSIA  AND  THE  ALHAMBRA.  IJ.3 

itic  spot  for  their  honey-moon — a  crescent,  I  suppose.  It  was  in  one 
of  these  rooms — the  Room  of  the  Fruits — that,  to  quote  Senor  Con- 
treras  again,  "the  celebrated  poet  Washington  Irving  harbored,  com- 
posing there  his  best  works."  From  which  it  will  be  inferred  that  the 
gallant  Spaniard  has  not  probed  deeply  the  "  Knickerbocker  History 
of  New  York,"  the  "  Sketch-book,"  and  the  "  Life  of  Washington.""" 

One  may  prolong  one's  explorations  to  the  Queen's  Toilet  Tower — 
who  "the  queen"  was  remains  decidedly  vague — poised  like  a  lofty 
palm  on  the  verge  commanding  the  Darro  gorge.  In  one  corner  of  its 
engirdling  colonnade  are  some  round  punctures,  through  which  per- 
fume was  wafted  to  saturate  the  queen's  garments  while  she  was  dress- 
ing. Or  one  may  descend  to  the  Baths,  vaulted  in  below  the  general 
level.  Their  antechamber  is  the  only  portion  which  has  been  complete- 
ly restored  to  its  pristine  magnificence  of  blue  and  gold,  vermilion-fleck- 
ed and  overspreading  the  polygonal  facets  of  stucco-work.  I  could 
imagine  the  Sultan  coming  there  with  stately  step  to  be  robed  for 
the  bath  by  female  slaves,  then  passing  on  wooden  clogs  into  the  inner 
chamber  of  heated  marble,  and  at  a  due  interval  emerging  to  take  his 
place  on  one  of  the  inclined  slabs  in  an  outer  alcove,  enveloped  in  a 
tcherchef — his  head  bound  with  a  soft  silk  muffler — there  to  devote 
himself  to  rest,  sweetmeats,  and  lazy  conversation. 

The  Alhambra  Palace  is  remarkable  as  being  more  Persian  than 
Turkish,  and  reproducing  many  features  that  crop  up  in  the  architect- 
ure of  India,  Syria,  Arabia,  and  Turkey,  yet  incorporating  them  in  an 
independent  total.  The  horseshoe  arch  is  not  the  prevailing  one,  though 
it  occurs  often  enough  to  renew  and  deepen  the  impression  of  its  unique 
effect.  What  makes  this  arch  so  adroitly  significant  of  the  East?  Pos- 
sibly the  fact  that  it  suggests  a  bow  bent  to  the  extremest  convexity. 
It  is  easy  to  imagine  stretched  between  the  opposite  sides  a  bow-string 
—that  handy  implement  of  conjugal  strangulation  which  no  Sultan's 
family  should  be  without. 

Part  of  the  populous  ancient  settlement  on  the  hill  still  exists  in  a 


*  living's  name  heads  the  ponderous  register  in  which  visitors,  embracing  some  of  the  most 
distinguished  of  the  earth,  have  recorded  themselves  for  fifty  years  past  ;  and  though  it  is  not 
generally  known,  his  signature  may  also  be  found  pencilled  on  the  inner  wall  of  the  little  mosque 
near  the  Comares  Tower,  just  under  the  interpolated  Spanish  choir  gallery.  Yet  there  seems 
to  be  a  degree  of  mistiness  in  the  Granadian  mind  respecting  the  author  of  "Tales  of  the  Al- 
hambra." I  think  the  people  sometimes  confounded  him  with  the  Father  of  his  Country.  At 
all  events,  the  Hotel  Washington  Irving  is  labelled,  at  one  of  its  entrances,  "  Hotel  Washing- 
ton," as  if  that  were  the  same  thing. 


1J4  SPANISH   VISTAS. 

single  street  outside  of  the  palace,  now  inhabited  by  a  more  respectable 
population  than  that  riffraff  of  silk-weavers,  vagabonds,  potters,  smug- 
glers, and  broken-down  soldiers  who  flourished  there  half  a  century 
since.  A  church  stands  among  the  dwellings.  Strolling  up  the  street 
one  moonlit  night,  we  bought  some  blue  and  white  wine -pitchers  of 
Granada-ware  at  a  little  drinking-shop,  and  saw  farther  on  a  big  circle 
of  some  twenty  people  sitting  together  in  the  open  air — one  of  those 
informal  social  clubs  called  tertulias,  common  among  neighbors  and 
intimate  friends  in  all  ranks  of  Spanish  society.  At  another  spot  a  man 
was  sleeping  in  the  moonlight  on  a  cot  beside  the  parapet,  with  his  two 
little  Indian-looking  boys  dreaming  on  a  sheet  laid  over  the  ground. 
Mateo  Ximenes,  the  son  of  Irving's  "  Son  of  the  Alhambra,"  lives  in 
this  quarter,  officiating  as  a  guide.  Thanks  to  "  Geoffrey  Crayon  "  he  is 
prosperous,  and  has  accordingly  built  a  new  square  house  which  is  the 
acme  of  commonplace.  Beyond  the  street,  across  some  open  ground 
where  figs  and  prickly  -  pears  are  growing,  stands  the  Tower  of  the 
Captive,  where  Isabella  de  Solis,  a  Christian  princess,  being  captured, 
was  imprisoned,  and  became  the  wife  of  Abul  Hassan.  She  was,  in 
fact,  the  Zoraya  who  became  Ayeshah's  rival.  Dense  ivy  mats  the 
wall  between  this  and  the  Tower  of  the  Princesses— a  structure  utilized 
by  Irving  in  one  of  his  prettiest  tales.  Both  towers  are  incrusted  inte- 
riorly with  a  perfection  rivalling  the  palace  chambers,  and  perhaps  even 
more  enchanting,  but  no  vestige  of  coloring  is  left  in  them.  To  me 
this  wan  aspect  of  the  walls  is  more  poetic  than  any  restoration  of  the 
original  emblazonments.  The  pale  white -brown  surface  seems  com- 
pounded of  historic  ashes,  and  is  imbued  with  a  pathos, 

"  Like  a  picture  when  the  pride 
Of  its  coloring  hath  died," 

which  one  would  be  loath  to  lose. 

The  sunlit  and  vine-clad  decrepitude  that  sits  so  lightly  on  this 
magic  stronghold — this  "  fortress  and  mansion  of  joy,"  as  one  of  the 
mural  mottoes  calls  it — is  among  its  main  charms.  The  most  bitter 
opponent  of  any  Moorish  return  to  power  in  Granada  would,  I  think, 
be  the  modern  aesthetic  tourist.  I  rambled  frequently  close  under  the 
old  rufous-mottled  walls,  from  which  young  trees  sprout  up  lustily,  and 
enjoyed  their  decay  almost  as  much  as  I  did  the  palace.  At  one  point 
near  the  Tower  of  Seven  Stories  (which  has  never  quite  recovered  from 
being  blown  up  by  the  French)  there  was  a  long  stretch  of  garden  where 
phlox  and  larkspur  and  chrysanthemums,  that  would  not  wait  for  au- 


ANDALUSIA   AND   THE   ALHAMBRA.  145 

tumn,  grew  rank  among  the  fruit-trees.  A  Moorish  water-pipe  near  the 
top  of  the  wall  had  broken,  and,  bursting  through  the  brick-work,  its 
current  had  formed  a  narrow  cascade  that  tumbled  into  the  garden 
through  wavering  loops  of  maiden-hair,  and  over  mosses  or  water-plants 
which  it  had  brought  into  life  on  the  escarpment.  Grapes  and  figs  rose 
luxuriantly  about  rings  of  box  enclosing  fountains,  and  at  sunset  some 
shaft  of  fire  would  level  itself  into  the  greenery,  striking  the  gorgeous 
pomegranate  blossoms  into  prominence,  like  scarlet-tufted  birds'  heads. 
All  day  there  was  a  loud  chir  of  cicadas,  and  a  rain  of  white-hot  light 
sifted  through  the  leaves.  But  at  night  everything  died  away  except 
the  rush  of  water,  which  grew  louder  and  louder  till  it  filled  the  whole 
air  like  a  ghostly  warning.  I  used  to  wake  long  after  midnight,  and 
hear  nothing  but  this  chilling  whisper,  unless  by  chance  some  gypsies 
squatted  on  the  road  were  singing  Malaguenas,  or  the  strange,  piercing 
note  of  the  tree-toad  that  haunts  the  hill  rung  out  in  elfin  and  inhuman 
pipings  of  woe.  For  the  builders  who  laid  them  here  these  running 
streams  make  a  fit  memorial — unstable  as  their  power  that  has  slipped 
away,  yet  surviving  them,  and  remaining  here  as  an  echo  of  their  voices, 
a  reminder  of  the  absent  race  which  not  for  an  hour  can  one  forget  in 
Granada. 

But  the  supreme  spell  of  the  Alhambra  reserves  itself  for  moonlight. 
When  the  Madonna's  lamp  shone  bright  amid  the  ingulfing  shadows 
of  the  Tower  of  Justice,  while  its  upper  half  was  cased  in  steely  radi- 
ance, we  passed  in  by  Charles's  Palace,  where  the  moon,  shining  through 
the  roofless  top,  made  a  row  of  smaller  moons  in  the  circular  upper 
windows  of  the  dark  gray  wall.  In  the  Court  of  the  Pond  a  low  gourd- 
like umbellation  at  the  north  end  sparkled  in  diamond  lustre  beneath 
the  quivering  rays  ;  while  the  whole  Tower  of  Comares  behind  it  re- 
peated itself  in  the  gray-green  water  at  our  feet,  with  a  twinkle  of  stars 
around  its  reversed  summit.  This  image,  dropped  into  the  liquid 
depth,  has  dwelt  there  ever  since  its  original  was  reared,  and  it  some- 
how idealized  itself  into  a  picture  of  the  tower's  primitive  perfection. 
The  coldness  of  the  moonlight  on  the  soft  cream-colored  plaster,  in  this 
warm,  stilly  air,  is  peculiarly  impressive.  As  for  sound,  absolutely  none 
is  heard  but  that  of  dripping  water ;  nor  did  I  ever  walk  through  a  pro- 
founder,  more  ghost-like  silence  than  that  which  eddied  in  Lindaraxa's 
garden  around  the  fountain,  as  it  mourned  in  silvery  monotones  of 
neglected  grief.  The  moon -glare,  coming  through  the  lonely  arches, 
shaped  gleaming  cuirasses  on  the  ground,  or  struck  the  out -thrust 
branches  of  citron-trees,  and  seemed  to  drip  from  them  again  in  a  daz- 

10 


14:6  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

zle  of  snowy  fire  ;  and  when  I  discovered  my  two  companions  looking 
out  unexpectedly  from  a  pointed  window,  they  were  so  pale  in  the 
brilliance  which  played  over  them  that  for  a  moment  I  easily  fancied 
them  white-stoled  apparitions  from  the  past.  As  we  glanced  from  the 
Queen's  Peinador,  where  the  black  trees  of  the  shaggy  ascent  sprung 
toward  us  in  swift  lines  or  serpentine  coilings  as  if  to  grasp  at  us,  we 
saw  long  shadows  from  the  towers  thrown  out  over  the  sleeping  city, 
which,  far  below,  caked  together  its  squares  of  hammered  silver,  dusked 
over  by  the  dead  gray  of  roofs  that  did  not  reflect  the  light.  But 
within  the  Hall  of  Ambassadors  reigned  a  gloom  like  that  of  the  grave. 
Gleams  of  sharp  radiance  lay  in  the  deep  embrasures  without  penetrat- 
ing; and,  at  one,  the  intricacies  of  open-work  above  the  arch  were 
mapped  in  clear  figures  of  light  on  a  space  of  jet-black  floor.  Another 
was  filled  nearly  to  the  top  by  the  blue,  weirdly  luminous  image  of  a 
mountain  across  the  valley.  Through  all  these  openings,  I  thought, 
the  spirits  of  the  departed  could  find  entrance  as  easily  as  the  footless 
night  breeze.  I  wonder  if  the  people  who  lived  in  this  labyrinth  of  art 
ever  smiled?  In  the  palpitating  dusk,  robed  men  and  veiled  women 
seemed  to  steal  by  with  a  rustle  no  louder  than  that  of  their  actual 
movement  in  life  ;  silk  hangings  hung  floating  from  the  walls  ;  scented 
lamps  shed  their  beams  at  moments  through  the  obscurity,  and  I  saw 
the  gleam  of  enamelled  swords,  the  shine  of  bronze  candlesticks,  the 
blur  of  colored  vases  in  the  corners;  the  kasidas  of  which  poetry-loving 
monarchs  turned  the  pages.  But  in  such  a  place  I  could  not  imagine 
laughter.  I  felt  inclined  to  prostrate  myself  in  the  darkness  before  I 
know  not  what  power  of  by-gone  yet  ever-present  things — a  half  tangi- 
ble essence  that  expressed  only  the  solemnity  of  life  and  the  presenti- 
ment of  change. 

IV. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  Isabella  the  Catholic,  who  had  so  com- 
pletely thrown  her  heart  into  the  conquest  of  Granada,  should  have 
wished  to  be  buried  in  that  city,  though  dying  far  away.  Her  marble 
semblance  rests  beside  that  of  Ferdinand  in  the  Royal  Chapel,  which 
serves  as  vestibule  to  the  ugly  Renaissance  cathedral.  The  statues  are 
peculiarly  impressive,  and  sleep  on  high  sepulchres  of  alabaster,  beauti- 
fully chased.  Both  of  them  are  placed  with  their  heads  where,  if  sen- 
tient, they  might  contemplate  the  astonishing  reredos  of  the  altar — a 
wooden  mass  piled  to  the  roof,  and  containing  many  niches  filled  by  fig- 


ANDALUSIA   AND    THE    ALIIAMBRA.  147 

ures  carved,  gilded,  and  painted  with  flesh-color.  Among  them  is  John 
the  Baptist  standing  upright,  with  blood  gushing  from  his  severed  neck, 
while  the  head  which  has  just  quitted  it  is  being  presented  on  a  charger 
to  Herodias's  daughter.  There  are  other  hideous  things  in  this  strange 
and  brutal  church  ornament,  which  is  a  museum  of  monstrosities;  but 
parts  of  it  depict  the  triumphs  of  the  royal  pair,  and  it  was  no  doubt 
accordant  with  their  taste.  Their  bodies  lie  in  a  black  vault  under  the 
floor,  which  we  visited  by  the  light  of  a  single  candle.  Two  long  bulks 
of  lead,  with  a  simple  letter  F.  on  one  and  an  I.  on  the  other;  that  was 
all  that  marked  the  presence  of  two  great  monarchs'  earthly  part. 
J  uana  the  Mad,  Charles  V.'s  mother,  rests  in  another  leaden  casket — 
the  poor  Queen,  whom  her  famous  son  probably  reported  crazy  for  his 
own  political  purposes,  but  whose  supposed  mania  of  watching  her  dead 
husband's  body,  in  jealous  fear  that  he  could  still  be  loved  by  other 
women,  has  been  effectively  treated  in  Padilla's  picture.  Her  husband, 
Philip  the  Fair,  lies  on  the  opposite  side.  Hardly  could  there  be  a 
more  impressive  contrast  than  that  between  this  tomb  under  the  soft, 
musty  shadows  of  the  chapel — all  that  is  left  of  the  conqueror — and 
that  glorious  sun-imbued  ruin  on  the  hill — all  that  is  left  of  the  con- 
quered. Two  mighty  forces  met  and  clashed  around  Granada  in  1492  ; 
and,  when  the  victory  was  won,  both  receded  like  spent  waves,  leav- 
ing the  Alhambra  to  slow  burial  in  rubbish  and  oblivion,  under  which 
Washington  Irving  literally  rediscovered  it.  How  fine  a  coincidence 
that  the  very  spot  from  which  Isabella  finally  despatched  Columbus  on 
his  great  quest  should  owe  so  much  to  a  son  of  the  new  continent 
which  Columbus  discovered  ! 

Another  edifice  of  no  small  interest,  although  seldom  heard  of  at  a 
distance,  is  La  Cartuja,  the  Carthusian  church  and  monastery,  lying 
upon  a  hill-slope  called  Hinadamar,  across  the  city  and  on  its  outskirts, 
due  west  from  the  Alhambra.  The  monks  who  formerly  occupied  it 
have,  in  common  with  those  of  other  orders,  been  driven  out  of  Spain  ; 
so  that  we  approached  the  church-steps  through  an  old  arched  gate- 
way, no  longer  guarded,  and  by  way  of  a  grass-grown  enclosure  that  bore 
the  appearance  of  complete  neglect.  The  interior,  however,  is  very 
well  preserved.  It  was  curious  to  walk  through  it,  under  the  guidance 
of  a  pursy  old  woman,  and,  afterward,  of  the  lame  sacristan,  who  did  his 
best  with  chattering  gossip  to  rob  the  place  of  whatever  sanctity  re- 
mained to  it.  The  refectory  (fitly  inhabited  by  an  echo)  stands  bare 
and  empty,  save  for  the  reading-desk,  from  which  the  monks  used  to 
be  refreshed  with  Scripture  while  at  their  meals;  and  on  the  wall  at 


1  18  SPANISH   VISTAS. 

one  end  of  this  long,  high  hall  hangs  apparently  a  wooden  cross,  which 
at  first  it  is  impossible  to  believe  is  only  painted  there.  The  barren, 
round-arched  cloisters  are  frescoed  with  an  interminable  series  of  scenes 
by  Cotan,  the  same  artist  who  painted  the  cross ;  and  in  this  case  he 
was  given  a  free  commission,  of  which  he  availed  himself  to  the  utmost 
in  depicting"  the  most  distressing  incidents  of  Carthusian  martyrology. 
Especially  does  he  seem  to  have  delighted  in  the  persecutions  inflicted 
by  English  Protestants  under  Henry  VIII.  on  San  Bruno,  the  founder 
of  this  order.  Plow  strange  the  conception  of  a  holy  and  exalted  life 
which  led  men  in  religious  retirement  to  keep  before  their  eyes,  in 
these  corridors  meant  for  mild  exercise  and  recreation,  representations 
so  full  of  blood  and  horror!  In  fact,  one  cannot  escape  the  impression, 
stamped  more  vividly  on  the  mind  here  in  Granada  than  anywhere  else, 
except  perhaps  in  Toledo,  that  Christianity  in  Spain  meant  barbarism. 
But  where  it  was  released  from  the  immediate  purposes  of  ecclesiastic 
dogma,  Christian  art  showed  a  taste  not  so  much  barbarous  as  barbaric, 
and  the  results  of  its  activity  were  often  beautiful.  In  this  same  mon- 
astery is  a  splendid  example  of  that  tendency.  The  church  is  not  re- 
markably fine  or  impressive;  but  the  sacristy  is  a  marvel  of  sumptuous 
decoration,  and  decoration  very  peculiar  in  kind.  Its  Avails  are  wholly 
incased  in  a  most  effective  species  of  green  and  white  marble,  cut  in 
smooth,  polished  slabs,  the  natural  veinings  of  which  present  grotesque 
resemblances  to  human  and  other  forms,  which  are  somewhat  trivially 
insisted  upon  by  the  custodian  and  guide,  and  should  be  allowed  to 
lose  themselves  in  the  general  richness  of  aspect.  The  great  doors  of 
this  sacristy  are  inlaid  with  ebony,  silver,  mother-of-pearl,  and  tortoise- 
shell,  in  designs  of  much  intricacy  and  richness;  and  all  around  the 
room  (which  is  provided  with  an  altar,  so  that  it  becomes  a  sort  of  sub- 
church  or  chapel,  adjoining  the  main  church)  are  low  closets  fitted  into 
the  wall.  These  were  originally  used  for  holding  the  vestments  of  the 
brotherhood.  Made  of  sweet-scented  cedar,  they  are  adorned  on  the 
outside  with  the  same  inlaid  work  that  appears  on  the  doors.  The 
dim,  veiled  shimmer  of  the  mother-of-pearl,  the  delicate,  translucent 
browns  of  the  tortoise-shell,  and  the  wandering  threads  of  silver,  form 
a  decorative  surface  wonderful  in  its  refinement,  its  perfection  of  ele- 
gance. I  scarcely  know  how  to  give  an  idea  of  its  appearance,  unless 
I  say  that  it  was  somewhat  as  if  layers  of  spider-webs  had  been  spread, 
with  all  their  mystery  of  exact  curves  and  angles,  over  the  wood-work, 
and  then  had  had  their  fibres  changed  by  some  magic  into  precious  and 
enduring  materials.     The  frail   but   well-adjusted   fabric   has  outlasted 


ANDALUSIA   AND   THE   ALHAMBRA.  149 

the  dominion  of  those  for  whose  selfish  and  secluded  pride  of  worship 
it  was  made  ;  and,  seeing  it,  one  may  pardon  them  some  of  their  mis- 
takes. It  is  pleasant  also  to  find  that  the  art  of  making  this  inlay,  after 
having  long  fallen  out  of  use,  has  been  revived  in  Granada ;  for  in  these 
days  of  enlightened  adaptation  and  artistic  education  there  seems  to 
be  no  reason  why  such  a  handicraft  should  be  lost  or  even  confined 
to  Spain. 

The  gypsies  of  Granada  are  disappointing,  apart  from  their  peculiar 
quivering  dance,  performed  by  gitanas  in  all  Spanish  cities  under  the 
name  of  flamenco*  Their  hill-caves,  so  operative  with  one's  curiosity 
when  regarded  from  across  the  valley,  gape  open  in  such  dingy,  sour, 
degraded  foulness  on  a  nearer  view,  that  I  found  no  amount  of  theory 
would  avail  to  restore  their  interest.  Yet  some  of  the  fortune-telling 
women  are  spirited  enough,  and  the  inextinguishable  Romany  spark 
smoulders  in  their  black  eyes.  Perhaps  it  was  an  interloping  drop  of 
Celtic  blood  that  made  one  of  them  say  to  me,  "  Seflorito,  listen.  I 
will  tell  you  your  fortune.  But  I  speak  French — /  come  from  Africa!" 
And  to  clinch  the  matter  she  added,  "  You  needn't  pay  me  if  every 
word  of  the  prediction  isn't  true!"  Much  as  I  had  heard  of  the  Span- 
ish bull,  I  never  knew  until  then  how  closely  it  resembled  the  Irish 
breed. 

Fortuny's  model,  Marinero,  who  lives  in  a  burrow  on  the  Alhambra 
side,  occasionally  starts  up  out  of  the  earth  in  a  superb  and  expensive 
costume,  due  to  the  dignity  of  his  having  been  painted  by  Fortuny. 
Dark  as  a  negro,  with  a  degree  of  luminous  brown  in  his  skin,  and  very 
handsome,  he  plants  himself  immovably  in  one  spot  to  sell  photographs 
of  himself.  His  nostrils  visibly  dilate  with  pride,  but  he  makes  no 
other  bid  for  custom.  He  expands  his  haughty  nose,  and  you  imme- 
diately buy  a  picture.  Velveteen  chanced  upon  Marinero's  daughter, 
and  got  her  to  pose.  When  he  engaged  her  she  was  so  delighted  that 
she  took  a  rose  from  her  hair  and  presented  it  to  him,  with  a  charming, 
unaffected  air  of  gratitude,  came  an  hour  before  the  time,  and  waited 
impatiently.  She  wore  a  Avinc-colored  skirt,  if  I  remember,  a  violet 
jacket  braided  with  black,  and  a  silk  neckerchief  of  dull  purple-pink 
silk.  But  that  was  not  enough  :  a  blue  silk  kerchief  also  was  wound 
about  her  waist,  and  in  among  her  smooth  jet  locks  she  had  tucked  a 
vivid  scarlet  flower.     The  result  was  perfect,  for  the  rich  pale-brown  of 


*  "  Fleming,"  a  name  commonly  applied  to  Spanish  gypsies;  whence  it  has  been  inferred 
that  the  first  of  them  came  from  the  Netherlands. 


150 


SPANISH    VISTAS. 


her  complexion  could  harmonize  anything;  and  in  Spain,  moreover, 
combinations  of  color  that  appear  too  harsh  elsewhere  are  paled  and 
softened  by  the  overpowering  light. 

Episodes  like  these  tinged  our  dreams  of  the  Alhambra  with  novel 
clashes  of  living  reality.     Even  the  tedious  bustle  of  a  Spanish  town, 


too,  has  its  attractions.  The  moving  figures  on  the  steep  Albaycin 
streets,  that  perpetually  break  into  flights  of  steps ;  the  blocks  of 
pressed  snow  brought  in  mule  panniers  every  night  from  the  Sierra  to 
cool  sugar-water  and  risadas  of  orange  at  the  cafes ;  peasants  coming 
in  to  the  beautiful  old  grain  market  with  gaudy  mantles  over  their 
shoulders,  stuffing  into  their  sashes  a  variety  of  purchases,  and  becom- 
ing  corpulent   with  a  day's  transactions  ;  the  patient  efforts   of  shop- 


ANDALUSIA    AND    THE    ALIIAMBRA.  151 

keepers  to  water  the  main  street,  Zacatin,  with  a  pailful  at  a  time— all 
this  was  amusing  to  watch.  The  Generalife  was  another  source  of 
pleasure,  for  in  its  topmost  loggia  one  may  sit  like  a  bird,  with  the  Al- 
hambra  spread  out  below  in  all  the  distinctness  of  a  raised  map.  In 
the  saloons  of  the  Generalife  hang  the  portraits  of  the  Moorish  and 
the  Christian  ancestors  of  the  present  owner.  Their  direct  descendant 
is  a  woman  ;  therefore  she  has  married  an  Italian  count,  and  flitted 
from  this  ideal,  quite  unparalleled  eyry,  returning  to  her  ancestral 
home  only  at  rare  intervals. 

There  came  an  hour  when  we  too  flitted.  To  oblige  an  eccentric 
time-table  we  had  to  get  up  at  dawn  ;  but  the  last  glimpse  of  the  Al- 
hambra  at  that  early  hour  was  a  compensation.  The  dim  red  towers 
already  began  to  soften  into  a  reminiscence  under  this  tender  blend- 
ing of  moonlight  and  morning;  but  a  small  constellation  in  the  east 
sparkled  on  the  blue  like  a  necklace  of  diamonds,  and  Saturn  still 
flamed  above  the  mountains,  growing  momently  larger,  as  if  it  were  a 
huge  topaz  in  the  turban  of  some  giant  Moor  advancing  in  the  early 
stillness  to  reclaim  the  Alhambra  throne. 


152 


SPANISH   VISTAS. 


MEDITERRANEAN  PORTS  AND   GARDENS. 


GYPSY  dance !     What  does  one  naturally  im- 
agine it  to  be  like?     For  my  part,  I  had  ex- 
pected something  wild,  free,  and  fantas- 
tic ;  something  in  harmony  with  moon- 
light, the  ragged  shadows  of  trees,  and 
the  flicker  of  a  rude  camp-fire.     Noth- 
ing could  have  been  wider  of  the  mark. 
The  flamenco — that  dance   of  the   gyp- 
sies, in  its  way  as  peculiarly  Spanish  as 
the  church  and  the  bull-ring,  and  hardly 
less  important  —  is   of  Oriental 
origin,  and  preserves  the  impas- 
sive quality,  the  suppressed,  tan- 
talized   sensuousness    belonging 
to  Eastern  performances  in  the 
saltatory  line.     It  forms  a  pop- 
ular entertainment   in    cafes    of 
the  lower  order  throughout  the 
southern  provinces,  from  Madrid 
all  the  way  around  to  Valencia, 
in    Sevilla    and    Malaga,  and    is 
gotten   up   as   a   select   and   ex- 
pensive   treat    for   travellers    at 
Granada.     But  we  saw  it  at  its  best  in  Malaga. 

We  were  conducted,  about  eleven  o'clock  in  the  evening,  to  a  roomy, 
rambling,  dingy  apartment  in  the  crook  of  an  obscure  and  dirty  street, 
where  we  found  a  large  number  of  sailors,  peasants,  and  chulos  seated 
drinking  at  small  tables,  with  a  very  occasional  well-dressed  citizen  or 
two  here  and  there.  In  one  corner  was  a  stage  rising  to  the  level  of 
our  chins  when  we  were  seated,  which  had  two  fronts,  like  the  Shak- 


MEDITERRANEAN    PORTS   AND   GARDENS.  153 

spearian  stage  in  pictures,  so  that  spectators  on  the  side  might  have  a 
fair  chance,  and  be  danced  to  from  time  to  time.  On  this  sat  about  a 
dozen  men  and  women,  the  latter  quite  as  much  Spanish  as  gypsy,  and 
some  of  them  dressed  partially  in  tights,  with  an  affectation  of  sailors' 
or  pages'  costume  in  addition.  At  Madrid  and  Sevilla  their  sisters  in 
the  craft  wore  ordinary  feminine  dresses,  and  looked  the  possessors  of 
more  genuine  Romany  blood. 

But  here,  too,  the  star  danseuse,  the  chief  mistress  of  the  art  flamenco, 
was  habited  in  the  voluminous  calico  skirt  which  Peninsular  propriety 
prescribes  for  this  particular  exhibition,  thereby  doing  all  it  can  to  con- 
ceal and  detract  from  the  amazing  skill  of  muscular  movement  involved. 
A  variety  of  songs  and  dances  with  guitar  accompaniments,  some  effec- 
tive and  others  tedious,  preceded  the  gypsy  performance.  I  think  we 
listened  nearly  half  an  hour  to  certain  disconsolate  barytone  waitings, 
which  were  supposed  to  interpret  the  loves,  anxieties,  and  other  emo- 
tions of  a  contrabandist^  or  smuggler,  hiding  from  pursuit  in  the  moun- 
tains. Judging  from  the  time  at  his  disposal  for  this  lament,  the  smug- 
gling business  must  indeed  be  sadly  on  the  decline.  The  whole  enter- 
tainment was  supervised  by  a  man  precisely  like  all  the  chiefs  of  these 
troupes  in  Spain.  Their  similarity  is  astounding;  even  their  features 
are  almost  identical :  when  you  have  seen  one,  you  have  seen  all  his 
fellows,  and  know  exactly  what  they  will  do.  He  may  be  a  little  older 
or  younger,  a  little  more  gross  or  less  so,  but  he  is  always  clean-shaven 
like  the  other  two  sacred  types — the  bull-fighter  and  the  priest — and 
his  face  is  in  every  case  weakly  but  good-humoredly  sensual.  But  what 
does  he  do  ?  Well,  nothing.  He  is  the  most  important  personage  on 
the  platform,  but  he  does  not  pretend  to  contribute  to  the  programme 
beyond  an  exclamation  of  encouragement  to  the  performers  at  inter- 
vals. He  is  a  Turveydrop  in  deportment  at  moments,  and  always  a 
Crummies  in  self-esteem.  A  few  highly  favored  individuals  as  they 
come  into  the  cafe  salute  him,  and  receive  a  condescending  nod  in  re- 
turn. Then  some  friend  in  the  audience  sends  up  to  him  a  glass  of 
chamomile  wine,  or  comes  close  and  offers  it  with  his  own  hand.  The 
leader  invariably  makes  excuses,  and  without  exception  ends  by  taking 
the  wine,  swallowing  a  portion,  and  gracefully  spitting  out  the  rest  at 
the  side  of  the  platform.  He  smokes  the  cigars  of  admiring  acquaint- 
ances, and  throws  the  stumps  on  the  stage.  All  the  while  he  carries 
in  his  hand  a  smooth,  plain  walking-stick,  with  which  he  thumps  time 
to  the  music  when  inclined. 

At  last  the  moment  for  the  flamenco  arrives.     The  leader  begins  to 


1 54 


SPANISH    VISTAS. 


GYPSY   DANCE. 


beat  monotonously  on  the  boards,  just  as  our  Indians  do  with  their  tom- 
ahawks, to  set  the  rhythm  ;  the  guitars  strike  into  their  rising  and  fall- 
ing melancholy  strain.  Two  or  three  women  chant  a  weird  song,  and 
all  clap  their  hands  in  a  peculiar  measure,  now  louder,  now  fainter,  and 
with  pauses  of  varying  length  between  the  emphatic  reports.  The 
dancer  has  not  yet  risen  from  her  seat;  she  seems  to  demand  encour- 
agement. The  others  call  out,  "  Olle  !" — a  gypsy  word  for  "  bravo  !" — 
and  smile  and  nod  their  heads  at  her  to  draw  her  on.  All  this  excites 
in  you  a  livelier  curiosity,  a  sort  of  suspense.  "What  can  be  coming 
now?"  you  ask.  Finally  she  gets  up,  smiling  half  scornfully;  a  light 
comes  into  her  eyes ;  she  throws  her  head  back,  and  her  face  is  suffused 
with  an  expression  of  daring,  of  energy,  and  strange  pride.  Perhaps  it 
is  only  my  fancy,  but  there  seems  to  creep  over  the  woman  at  that  in- 
stant a  reminiscence  of  far-off  and  mysterious  things;  her  face,  partially 
lifted,  seems  to  catch  the  light  of  old  traditions,  and  to  be  imbued  with 
the  spirit  of  something  belonging  to  the  past,  which  she  is  about  to 


MEDITERRANEAN   PORTS   AND   GARDENS.  155 

revive.  Her  arms  are  thrown  upward,  she  snaps  her  ringers,  and  draws 
them  down  slowly  close  before  her  face  as  far  as  the  waist,  when,  with 
an  easy  waving  sideward,  the  "pass"  is  ended,  and  the  arms  go  up 
again  to  repeat  the  movement.  Her  body  too  is  in  motion  now,  only 
slightly,  with  a  kind  of  vibration  ;  and  her  feet,  unseen  beneath  the 
flowing  skirt,  have  begun  an  easy,  quiet,  repressed  rhythmical  figure. 
So  she  advances,  her  face  always  forward,  and  goes  swiftly  around  a 
circle,  coming  back  to  the  point  where  she  began,  without  appearing 
to  step.  The  music  goes  on  steadily,  the  cries  of  her  companions  be- 
come more  animated,  and  she  continues  to  execute  that  queer,  aimless, 
yet  dimly  beckoning  gesture  with  both  arms — never  remitting  it  nor 
the  snapping  of  her  fingers,  in  fact,  until  she  has  finished  the  whole 
affair.  Her  feet  go  a  little  faster;  you  can  hear  them  tapping  the  floor 
as  they  weave  upon  it  some  more  complicated  measure  ;  but  there  is 
not  the  slightest  approach  to  a  springing  tendency.  Her  progress  is 
sinuous  ;  she  glides  and  shuffles,  her  soles  quitting  the  boards  as  little 
as  possible — something  between  a  clog  dance  and  a  walk,  perfect  in 
time,  with  a  complexity  in  the  exercise  of  the  feet  demanding  much 
skill.  She  treats  the  performance  with  great  dignity ;  the  intensity  of 
her  absorption  invests  it  with  a  something  almost  solemn. 

Forward  again  !  She  gazes  intently  in  front  as  she  proceeds,  and 
again  as  she  floats  backward,  looking  triumphant,  perhaps  with  a  spark 
of  latent  mischief  in  her  eyes.  She  stamps  harder  upon  the  floor;  the 
sounds  follow  like  pistol  reports.  The  regular  clack,  clack-clack  of  the 
smitten  hands  goes  on  about  her,  and  the  cries  of  the  rest  increase  in 
zest  and  loudness. 

"Olle!  olle!" 

"  Bravo,  my  gracious  one  !" 

"  Muy  bien  !  muy  bien  !" 

"Hurrah!  Live  the  queen  of  the  ants!"  shouts  the  leader.  And 
the  audience  roars  at  his  eccentric  phrase. 

The  dancer  becomes  more  impassioned,  but  in  no  way  more  violent. 
Her  body  does  not  move  above  the  hips.  It  is  only  the  legs  that  twist 
and  turn  and  bend  and  stamp,  as  if  one  electric  shock  after  another 
were  being  sent  downward  through  them.  Every  few  minutes  her  ac- 
tivity passes  by  some  scarcely  noted  gradation  into  a  subtly  new  phase, 
but  all  these  phases  are  bound  together  by  a  certain  uniformity  of  re- 
straint and  fixed  law.  Now  she  almost  comes  to  a  stand -still,  and 
then  we  notice  a  quivering,  snaky,  shuddering  motion,  beginning  at  the 
shoulders  and  flowing  down  through  her  whole  bod)'',  wave  upon  wave, 


15G  SPANISH   VISTAS. 

the  dress  drawn  tighter  with  one  hand  showing  that  this  continues 
downward  to  her  feet.  Is  she  a  Lamia  in  the  act  of  undergoing  meta- 
morphosis, a  serpent,  or  a  woman  ?  The  next  moment  she  is  dancing, 
receding — this  time  with  smiles,  and  with  an  indescribable  air  of  invi- 
tation in  the  tossing  of  her  arms.  But  the  crowning  achievement  is 
when  the  hips  begin  to  sway  too,  and,  while  she  is  going  back  and  for- 
ward, execute  a  rotary  movement  like  that  of  the  bent  part  of  an  auger. 
In  fact,  you  expect  her  to  bore  herself  into  the  floor  and  disappear. 
Then  all  at  once  the  stamping  and  clapping  and  the  twanging  strings 
are  stopped,  as  she  ceases  her  formal  gyrations :  she  walks  back  to  her 
seat  like  one  liberated  from  a  spell,  and  the  whole  thing  is  over. 

Velveteen  and  I  came  to  Malaga  direct  from  the  Alhambra.  The 
transition  wras  one  from  the  land  of  the  olive  to  that  of  the  palm. 
When  we  left  Granada,  an  hour  after  daybreak,  the  slopes  of  the  Sierra 
Nevada  below  the  snow-line  were  softly  overspread  with  rose  and  gold 
upon  the  blue,  and  the  unmatchably  pale  bright  yellow-white  of  the 
grain  fields  along  the  valley  was  spotted  with  the  dark  clumps  of  olive- 
trees,  at  a  distance  no  bigger  than  cabbages.  The  last  thing  we  saw 
was  a  sturdy  peasant  in  knee-breeches  and  laced  legs,  with  a  tattered 
cloak  flung  around  his  chest  and  brought  over  the  left  shoulder  in 
stately  folds,  that  gave  him  the  mien  of  a  Roman  senator,  and  put  to 
shame  our  vulgar  railroad  plans.  As  the  day  grew,  the  hills  in  shadow 
melted  into  a  warm  citron  hue,  and  those  lifting  their  faces  to  the  light 
were  white  as  chalk,  with  faint  blue  shadows  down  in  the  clefts. 

It  was  in  this  same  neighborhood  that  we  saw  peasant  women  in 
trousers  doing  harvest-work.  To  the  enormity  of  donning  the  male 
garb  they  added  the  hardihood  of  choosing  for  the  color  of  their  trou- 
sers a  bright  sulphur-yellow.  My  friend  the  artist,  I  believe,  secretly 
envied  them  this  splendor  denied  to  men  ,  and  in  truth  they  would 
make  spirited  and  effective  material  for  a  painter.  Their  yellow  legs 
descended  from  a  very  short  skirt  of  blue  or  vermilion,  a  mere  conces- 
sion to  prejudice,  for  it  was  mostly  caught  up  and  pinned  in  folds  to 
keep  it  out  of  the  way.  Above  that  the  dress  and  figure  were  femi- 
nine; the  colored  kerchief  around  the  throat,  and  the  gay  bandanna 
twisted  around  the  dark  loose  hair  under  a  big  straw  hat,  finishing  off 
the  whole  person  as  something  dashing,  free,  novel,  and  yet  quite  nat- 
ural and  not  unwomanly. 

An  old  man  at  Bobadilla  offered  us  some  pahnitos — pieces  of  pith 
from  the  palm-trees,  tufted  with  a  few  feathery  young  leaves,  and  con- 
sidered a  delicacy  when  fresh.     It  had  a  bitter-sweet,  rather  vapid  taste, 


MEDITERRANEAN    PORTS   AND   GARDENS.  157 

but  I  hailed  it  as  a  friendly  token  from  the  semi-tropical  region  we  were 
approaching.  So  I  bought  one,  and  my  companion  presented  the  old 
man  with  some  of  the  lunch  we  had  brought ;  whereupon  the  shrivelled 
merchant,  with  a  courtesy  often  met  with  in  Spain,  insisted  upon  his 
taking  a  palmito  as  a  present.  Thus,  bearing  our  victorious  palm  leaves, 
we  moved  forward  to  meet  the  palms  themselves.  The  train  rumbled 
swiftly  through  twelve  successive  tunnels,  giving,  between  them,  mag- 
nificent glimpses  of  deep  wild  gorges;  fantastic  rocks  piled  up  in  all  con- 
ceivable shapes,  like  a  collection  of  giant  crystals  arranged  by  a  mad- 
man, amid  mounds  of  gray  and  slate- colored  clay  pulverized  by  the 
heat,  and  reduced  absolutely  to  ashes.  The  last  barrier  of  the  Alpu- 
jarras  was  passed,  and  we  rushed  out  upon  lower  levels,  immense  and 
fertile  vales,  dense  with  plantations  of  orange  and  lemon,  interspersed 
with  high-necked,  musing  palms  and  brilliant  thickets  of  pomegranate. 
Through  the  hot  earth  in  which  these  plantations  were  placed  ran  the 
narrow  canals,  not  more  than  two  feet  wide,  containing  those  streams 
of  milky  water  from  the  snow-fields  on  which  all  the  vegetation  of  the 
region  depends. 

It  is  of  this  and  the  neighboring  portions  of  Spain  that  Castelar,  in 
one  of  his  recent  writings,  says:  "The  wildest  coasts  of  our  peninsula 
— those  coasts  of  Almeria,  Alicante,  Murcia,  where  the  fruits  of  various 
zones  are  yielded — compensate  for  their  great  plenty  by  years  of  des- 
olation comparable  only  to  those  described  in  the  chronicles  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  and  suffered  in  the  crowded  lands  of  the  Orient.  .  .  .  The 
mountains  of  those  districts,  which  breathe  the  incense  of  thyme  and 
lavender,  are  carpeted  with  silky  grasses,  and  full  of  mines,  and  inter- 
sected by  quarries.  The  Honduras,  or  valleys,  present  the  palm  beside 
the  pomegranate,  the  vine  next  to  the  olive,  barley  and  sugar-cane  in 
abundance,  orange  orchards  and  fields  of  maize;  in  fine,  all  the  fruits 
of  the  best  zones,  incomparable  both  as  to  quantity  and  quality.  The 
azure  waves  of  their  sea,  resembling  Venetian  crystals,  contain  store  of 
savory  fish  ;  and  the  equality  of  the  temperature,  the  purity  of  the  air, 
the  splendor  of  the  days,  and  the  freshness,  the  soothing  calm  of  the 
nights,  impart  such  enchantment  that,  once  habituated  to  them,  in 
whatever  other  part  of  the  world  you  may  be,  you  feel  yourself,  alas ! 
overcome  by  irremediable  nostalgia."  The  eloquent  statesman  has 
something  to  say,  likewise,  of  the  people.  "  Nowhere  does  there  exist 
in  such  vitality,"  he  declares,  "  the  love  of  family  and  the  love  of  labor. 
.  .  .  Property  is  very  much  divided  ;  the  customs  are  exceedingly  demo- 
cratic ;  there  exist  few  proprietors  who  are  not  workers,  and  few  work- 


15S 


SPANISH    VISTAS. 


A    SPANISH    MONK. 


crs  who  are  not  proprietors."  Democratic  the  country  is,  no  doubt ; 
too  much  so,  perhaps,  for  peace  under  monarchical  rule.  These  fervid, 
fertile  coast  lands,  containing  the  gardens  of  Spain,  are  also  the  home 
of  revolution. 


MEDITERRANEAN    PORTS   AND   GARDENS.  159 

The  north  was  the  Carlist  stronghold  ;  the  south  furnished  in  every 
city  a  little  Republican  volcano.  Nor  is  the  simple,  patriarchal  state 
of  society  which  Castelar  indicates  quite  universal.  Here,  as  in  other 
provinces,  we  found  luxurious  wealth  flourishing  in  the  heart  of  pitia- 
ble poverty.  The  Governor  of  Malaga  was  on  our  train,  and  a  delight- 
fully honest  and  amiable  old  gentleman  in  our  compartment,  seeing 
him  on  the  platform  surrounded  by  a  ring  of  dapper  sycophants,  who 
laughed  unreasonably  at  his  mild  jokes,  began  to  exclaim,  in  great 
wrath,  "So  many  cabals!  so  many  cabals!  Unfortunate  nation!  there 
is  nothing  but  cabal  and  intrigue  all  the  time.  Those  men  have  got 
some  sugar  they  want  to  dispose  of  to  advantage,  and  so  they  fawn  on 
the  Governor.     It  is  dirty ;  it  is  foul,"  etc. 

At  Malaga  there  was  a  coast-guard  steamer  lying  in  the  harbor,  and, 
as  we  were  looking  at  it,  I  asked  our  companion,  a  resident,  whether 
they  caught  many  smugglers. 

"  Oh,  sometimes,"  was  the  answer.     "  Just  enough  to  cover  it." 

"  Cover  what  ?" 

"  Oh,  the  fraud.  Out  of  twenty  smuggling  vessels  they  will  take 
perhaps  one,  to  keep  up  appearances."  And  he  made  the  usual  signifi- 
cant movement  of  the  fingers  denoting  the  acceptance  of  bribes. 

The  heat  at  Malaga  surpassed  anything  we  had  encountered  before. 
The  horses  of  the  cabs  had  gay-colored  awnings  stretched  over  them 
on  little  poles  fixed  to  the  shafts,  so  that  when  they  moved  along  the 
street  they  looked  like  holiday  boats  on  four  legs.  The  river  that  runs 
through  the  city  was  completely  dry,  and,  as  if  to  complete  the  boat 
similitude,  the  cabs  drove  wantonly  across  its  bed  instead  of  using  the 
bridges.  These  equipages,  however,  are  commonplace  compared  with 
the  wagons  used  for  the  transportation  of  oil  and  water  jars  (tinajas)  in 
the  adjoining  province  of  Murcia.  A  delightful  coolness  was  diffused 
from  the  sea  at  evening,  when  the  fashionable  drive  —  the  half-moon 
mole  stretching  out  to  the  light-house — was  crowded  with  stylish  vehi- 
cles, and  the  sea-wall  all  along  the  street  was  lined  with  citizens,  sol- 
diers, priests,  and  pretty  women,  who  dangled  their  feet  from  the  low 
parapet  in  blissful  indolence.  Then,  too,  the  lamps  were  lighted  in  the 
floating  bath-houses  moored  in  the  harbor,  and  one  of  them  close  to 
the  mouth  of  a  city  drain  seemed  to  be  particularly  well  patronized. 
The  streets,  almost  forsaken  by  day,  were  crowded  after  nightfall.  The 
shops  were  open  late.     By  eight  or  nine  o'clock  life  began. 

The  Cafe  de  la  Loba  (the  Wolf)  —  an  immense  building,  where 
there  is  a  court  entirely  roofed  over  by  a  single  grape-vine,  spreading 


1G0 


SPANISH    VISTAS. 


from  a  stem  fifteen  inches  in  diameter,  and  rivalling  the  famous  vines 
of  Hampton  Court  and  Windsor — was  well  filled,  and  in  many  small 
tiendas  de  vino  heavy  drinking  seemed  to  be  going  on.  But  the  Mala- 
guenese  do  not  imbibe  the  rich  sweet  wines  manufactured  in  their 
vicinity.  These  are  too  heating  to  be  taken  in  such  a  climate,  as  we 
were  able  to  convince  ourselves  on  tasting  some  fine  vintages  at  one 


TRANSPORTATION    OF    POTTERY. 


of  the  bodegas  the  next  day.  Nevertheless,  the  lower  class  of  the  in- 
habitants find  no  difficulty  in  attaining  to  a  maximum  of  drunkenness 
on  milder  beverages.  Even  the  respectable  idlers  in  the  cafe  under 
our  hotel  drank  a  great  deal  too  much  beer,  if  I  may  judge  from 
their  prolonging  their  obstreperous  discussion  of  politics  into  the  small 
hours,  while  we  lay  feverish  in  a  room  above  listening  to  their  voices, 
blended  with  the  whistle  of  a  boatswain  on  some  ship  at  the  neigh- 
boring quay ;  ourselves  meanwhile  enduring  with  Anglo-Saxon  reserve 
the  too  effusive  attentions  offered  by  mosquitoes  of  the  Latin  race. 

In  justice  to  the  Spaniards  it  should  be  said  that  excessive  drinking 
is  a  rare  fault  among  them.  As  a  nation  they  surpass  all  other  civilized 
peoples  in  setting  an  example  of  temperance  as  to  potations  (excepting 


MEDITERRANEAN    PORTS   AND   GARDENS. 


101 


water),  and  of  remarkable  frugality  in  eating.  The  Mediterranean 
ports,  through  their  commerce  with  the  outside  world,  are  tinged  by 
foreign  elements ;  license  creeps  in  with  notions  of  liberty ;  the  sailors, 
and  that  whilom  powerful  fraternity  the  smugglers,  have  likewise  as- 
sisted in  fostering  turbulent  characteristics. 

To  me  the  best  part  of  Malaga  was  the  view  of  it  from  the  deck  of 
a  Segovia  steamer,  on  the  eve  of  a  cruise  along  the  coast.  Behind  the 
plain  sandy-colored  houses  rose  a  background  of  mountains  fantastic 
in  outline  as  flames ;  the  cathedral,  in  no  way  striking,  towered  up 
above  the  roofs,  and  was  in  turn 
overshadowed  by  an  ancient  for- 
tress on  the  eastern  height,  which 
was  one  of  the  last  to  fall  before 
the  returning  tide  of  Spanish 
arms,  and  still  claws  the  precip- 
itous ridge  with  innumerable 
towers  and  bastions,  as  if  to  keep 
from  slipping  off  its  honorable 
eminence  in  the  drowsy  lapses 
of  old  age.  Below  this,  close  to  /> 
the  water,  stood  the  inevitable  "^jT 
Plaza  de  Toros  —  an  immense 
cheese-shaped  structure  of  stone, 
where  a  friend  of  mine,  Spanish  >&¥ 
by  birth,  tells  me  he  was  once  L% 
watching  the  game  of  bulls,  when 
part  of  the  crowd  were  struck  by 
the  happy  thought  of  starting  a 
revolution.  They  acted  at  once 
on  this  bright  idea ;  they  "  pro- 
nounced "  in  favor  of  something, 
and  attacked  the  military  guard. 
In  an  instant  a  battle  had  begun  ; 
the  place  resounded  with  musket- 
ry, and  the  populace  tore  away 
pieces  of  the  masonry  to  hurl  at 
the  troops  below.  But  that  was 
in  the  good  old  days,  and  such  things  do  not  happen  now,  though 
there  is  always  a  strong  detachment  of  soldiers  on  hand  at  the  arena, 
ready  for  any  sudden  revival   of  these   freaks.     The  water  around  us 

11 


GARLIC    VENDER. 


162  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

shone  with  a  lustre  like  satin  ;  and,  fluttering  over  the  bright  green  sur- 
face, played  incredibly  vivid  reflections  of  blue  and  red  from  the  steam- 
ers ;  while  the  pure  white  light,  striking  back  from  the  edges  of  the 
undulations,  quivered  and  shimmered  along  the  black  hulk  of  a  vessel, 
and  looked  like  steam  or  mist  in  constant  motion. 

Highly  effective,  too,  was  the  carbineer  (all  custom-house  officers 
in  Spain,  whether  armed  or  not,  are  called  carabineros)  who  stood  on 
deck  with  a  musket  at  rest,  a  living  monument  to  the  majesty  of  the 
revenue  laws.  We  had  been  solemnly  warned  beforehand  of  the  risk 
we  ran  in  carrying  a  basket  of  ale  on  board  in  the  face  of  this  function- 
ary, and  the  importance  of  giving  him  a. peseta  (twenty  cents)  had  been 
urged  upon  us  ;  but  we  at  first  looked  for  him  in  vain,  and  when  we 
found  him  he  appeared  so  harmless  that  we  kept  the  peseta.  I  no- 
ticed that  he  laid  his  gun  aside  as  much  as  possible.  Part  of  the  time 
he  smoked  a  short  pipe  under  cover  of  his  huge  mustache,  and  eyed 
people  sternly,  as  if  suspecting  that  they  might  take  advantage  of  this 
temporary  relaxing  of  vigilance  ;  but  he  studiously  avoided  seeing  any 
merchandise  of  any  description. 

The  steamer  was  to  start  at  four  in  the  afternoon,  and  we  made 
great  haste  to  get  on  board  in  time  ;  but  there  had  evidently  never 
been  the  smallest  intention  of  despatching  her  until  an  hour  and  a  half 
later.  This  was  in  accord  with  the  national  trait  of  distrust.  No  one 
was  expected  to  believe  the  announcement  as  to  the  time,  and  if  the 
real  hour  had  been  named,  no  one  would  have  believed  it.  Aware  of 
this,  the  more  experienced  natives  did  not  even  begin  to  come  aboard 
until  toward  five  o'clock.  Spanish  clocks  are  the  most  accommodating 
kind  of  mechanism  I  have  ever  had  the  fortune  to  encounter.  They 
appear  to  exist  rather  as  an  ornamental  feature  than  as  articles  of  use. 
You  order  a  carriage,  and  it  is  promised  at  a  certain  time  ;  you  are  told 
that  something  is  to  be  accomplished  at  a  fixed  hour;  but  this  is  only 
done  out  of  deference  to  your  outlandish  prejudices.  The  hour  strikes, 
and  the  thing  is  not  done.  You  begin  to  doubt  whether  the  hour 
itself  has  arrived.  Is  it  not  a  vulgar  illusion  to  suppose  so?  Your 
Spaniard  certainly  thinks  it  is.  He  knows  that  time  is  an  arbitrary 
distinction,  and  prefers  to  adopt  the  scale  of  eternity.  The  one  ex- 
ception is  the  bull-fight.  That  is  recognized  as  a  purely  mundane  and 
temporal  institution  ;  it  must  not  be  delayed  a  moment ;  and  to  make 
sure  of  punctuality,  it  is  begun  almost  before  the  time  announced.  But 
anything  like  a  sea-voyage,  though  it  be  only  along  the  shore,  comes 
under   a    different    heading,  and   must    be    undertaken    with    as    much 


MEDITERRANEAN    PORTS   AND    GARDENS.  163 

mystery  and  caution  as  if  it  were  a  conspiracy  to  erect  a  new  govern- 
ment. 

To  tell  the  truth,  we  were  glad  to  get  away  from  the  tyranny  of  the 
minute-hand,  and  were  not  displeased  at  the  lazy  freedom  of  the  steam- 
er. The  stewards  came  up  and  shut  the  skylights,  spread  a  table-cloth 
over  them,  laid  plates,  and  formed  a  hollow  square  of  fruits  and  olives 
in  the  centre.  Those  of  the  passengers  that  listed  took  their  places  at 
this  improvised  banqueting  board,  and  by  the  time  the  puchero  was 
served — a  savory  stew  composed  of  chopped  meat,  beans,  carrots,  spices, 
and  any  little  thing  the  cook's  fancy  may  suggest — we  were  moving  out 
of  the  basin,  past  the  curved  mole  and  the  light-house,  and  toy  bat- 
tery at  its  end.  The  sunset  had  thrown  its  glow  over  sky  and  moun- 
tains, as  if  it  were  an  after-thought,  to  make  the  surroundings  perfect. 
We  glided  smoothly  over  a  floor  of  blue — deep,  solid-looking,  and  veined 
with  white — a  pale  golden  dome  above  us,  and  a  delicious  wind  playing 
round  us,  like  the  exhalation  of  some  balmy  sub-tropical  dream.  On 
these  coast  steamers  one  buys  a  ticket  for  the  transport,  and  then  pays 
for  what  he  eats.  This  rule  reduced  the  company  at  our  deck  table  to 
a  choice  and  pleasant  circle,  the  head  of  which  was  Sefior  Segovia,  one 
of  the  owners  of  the  line,  a  benignant,  comfortable  Spaniard — ■"  an  An- 
dalusian  to  the  core,"  as  he  proudly  said.  We  had,  as  usual,  early 
chocolate  at  six  or  seven  ;  breakfast  not  so  near  eleven  as  to  admit  any 
suspicion  of  subserviency  to  the  base  time-keeping  clock ;  and  dinner — 
a  second  but  ampler  breakfast  —  between  five  and  six.  Some  of  the 
first-cabin  passengers  brought  their  own  provision,  or  purchased  it  at 
the  towns  where  we  touched  every  day,  and  fed  secretly  in  out-of-the- 
way  places.  As  for  the  second-class,  consisting  mainly  of  peasants 
swathed  in  strange  garments  edged  and  spotted  with  fantastic  color, 
they  were  never  seen  to  eat ;  but  I  think  that  privately  they  gnawed 
the  pride  of  ancient  race  in  their  hearts,  and  found  it  sufficient  proven- 
der. We  would  come  upon  them,  when  we  went  forward  in  our  night 
patrol,  lying  on  the  deck  in  magnificent  unconcern,  enveloped  by  state- 
ly rags  wound  round  and  round  their  bodies,  and  lifting  toward  us  a 
stern,  reproachful  gaze  at  our  interruption  of  their  tranquillity. 

The  Mediterranean  was  calm  as  a  pond,  and  we  roused  ourselves  to 
a  serene  morning,  under  which  the  hills  gleamed  pale  and  clear  along 
the  margin  of  the  waves,  the  huge  sides  seamed  with  dry  water-courses, 
like  the  creases  in  a  human  palm.  Beyond  the  first  line  of  peaks  we 
could  descry  for  a  while  the  soft  ghostly  whiteness  of  an  inland  snow 
range  glimmering  above  the  faded  green,  the  violet  shadows,  the  hard 


104 


SPANISH   VISTAS. 


streaks  of  white  and  powderings  of  red  earth  in  the  lower  series.  No 
sign  of  life  was  seen  upon  the  puckered,  savage  coast.  It  was  the  bul- 
wark of  that  Tarshish  to  which  Solomon  sent  his  ships  for  gold  ;  new  to 
us  as  it  was  new  to  him,  yet  now  unutterably  old;  silent,  yet  speaking; 

uncommunicative,  yet    vaguely 
predicting  a  future  vast  and  un- 
known as  the  vanished  ages.     It 
would  be  hard  to  tell  how  aw- 
ful  in    its   unchanged   grandeur 
was  the   face    of  those   mighty 
hills,  so  unexpectedly  eloquent. 
It  was  a  relief  to  find  that 
we   were   approaching  Almeria. 
A  road  cut  in  the  rock ;  a  stout 
arched  bridge   carrying  it   over 
an    indentation    of    the    sea ;    a 
small   square  edifice   on  a  rock 
to    guard    the    road ;    then    the 
distant    jumble    of    low    houses 
along  a   sheltered   bay,  and   an 
empty  fortress  on  the  sharp  hill- 
crest  over  it  —  these  were   the 
tokens   of  our  progress  toward 
another    inhabited    spot.      We 
had  on  board  a  two-legged  enig- 
ma in  a  white  helmet-hat,  who 
wrote  with   ostentatious  indus- 
try in  a  note- book,  played  flu- 
ently  on   the   cabin   piano,  and 
now  emerged  upon  the  quarter- 
deck in  a  pair  of  bulging  canary 
leather  slippers  which  gave  his 
feet    the    appearance    of    over- 
grown lemons.     He  afterward  proved  to  be  an  English  colporteur.     We 
also  had  a  handsome,  gay,  talkative,  and  witty  Frenchman,  who,  with 
a  morbid   conscientiousness  as  to  what  was   fitting,  insisted  on  being 
sea-sick,  although  the  sea  was  hardly  ruffled  ;  and  him  we  succeeded  in 
resuscitating,  after  the  boat  had  come  quietly  to  anchor  in  the  harbor, 
so   far  that  he  began  to  long  audibly  for  Paris   and  the   cafe   on  the 
boulevard,  "  et  mon  absinthe"     We  watched  with  these  companions  the 


DIVING    FOR    COPPERS. 


MEDITERRANEAN    PORTS   AND    GARDENS.  165 

naked  boys  who  surrounded  the  vessel  in  a  flotilla  of  row-boats,  offer- 
ing to  dive  for  coppers  thrown  into  the  water,  precisely  as  I  have  seen 
young  Mexican  Indians  do  at  Acapulco.  Near  by  lay  another  steamer 
just  in  from  Africa,  disembarking  a  mass  of  returned  Spanish  settlers, 
fugitives  from  the  atrocities  of  the  Arabs  at  Oran  :  a  pathetic  sight 
as  they  dropped  silently  into  the  barges  that  bore  them  to  shore — 
some  utterly  destitute,  with  only  the  clothes  in  which  they  had  fled 
before  the  fanatic  murderers,  and  others  accompanied  by  a  few  meagre 
household  goods.  Did  they  feel  that  "  irremediable  nostalgia,"  I  won- 
der, of  which  Senor  Castelar  speaks  ?  The  sun  was  as  hot  as  that  which 
had  shone  upon  them  just  across  the  strait,  on  the  edge  of  the  Dark 
Continent ;  and  the  low-roofed  glaring  houses  huddled  at  the  feet  of  the 
Moorish  stronghold,  the  Alcasaba,  were  so  Oriental  that  I  should  think 
they  must  have  found  it  hard  to  believe  they  had  left  Africa  at  all. 

Almeria,  like  other  towns  of  this  southern  shore-line,  is  more  East- 
ern than  Spanish  in  appearance — only  the  long  winding  or  zigzag  cov- 
ered ways,  traced  on  the  steep  hills  like,  swollen  veins,  indicated  the 
presence  of  the  lead -mines  which  give  it  an  existence  in  commerce. 
These  conduct  the  poisonous  smoke  to  a  point  above  the  air  inhaled 
by  the  townsfolk,  and  it  is  seen  puffing  from  tall  chimneys  at  the  crest 
of  the  steep,  as  if  the  mountain  were  alive  and  gasping  for  breath.  The 
town,  faintly  relieved  against  its  pale,  dusty  background  as  we  first  saw 
it,  almost  disappeared  in  the  blinding  blaze  of  light  that  swept  it  when 
we  got  closer.  We  landed,  and  attempted  to  walk,  but  the  dry,  burn- 
ing heat  made  us  shrink  for  shelter  into  any  narrow  thread  of  shadow 
that  the  houses  presented.  Even  the  shadows  looked  whitish.  It  was 
impossible  to  get  as  far  as  the  weed-grown  cathedral,  which,  as  we 
could  see  from  the  water,  had  been  provided  in  former  times  with  forti- 
fied turrets  for  defence  against  piratical  incursions.  So  we  sunk  grate- 
fully into  a  restaurant  kiosk  at  the  head  of  the  alameda,  where  we  could 
look  down  the  hot,  yellow  street  to  a  square  of  cerulean  sea ;  and  there 
we  sipped  lemonade  while  tattered,  crimson-sashed  peasants  moved  about 
us,  some  of  them  occasionally  dashing  the  road  with  water  dipped  from 
a  gutter-rivulet  at  the  side.  We  had  barely  become  reconciled  to  the 
Granadan  women  in  trousers,  when  we  were  obliged  to  notice  that  the 
men  in  this  vicinity  wore  short  white  skirts  in  place  of  the  usual  nether 
garment.  How  is  Spain  ever  to  be  unified  on  such  a  basis  as  this? 
The  local  patriots  had  seemingly  wrestled  with  the  problem  and  been 
defeated,  for  a  dreary  memorial  column  in  front  of  the  kiosk  recorded 
how  they  had  fallen  in  some  futile  revolutionary  struggle. 
11* 


166  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

On  a  promontory,  passed  as  we  sailed  away,  the  drought  and  dust 
of  the  town  yielded  suddenly  to  luxurious  greenness  of  sugar-cane  and 
other  growths.  Almeria  was  once  surrounded  by  similar  fertility,  but 
the  land  has  been  so  wastefully  denuded  of  forest  that  all  through  this 
region — the  old  kingdoms  of  Murcia  and  Valencia — only  certain  favor- 
able spots  retain  their  earlier  plenty  by  means  of  constant  care  and 
assiduous  watering.  Cartagena,  one  of  the  chief  naval  stations  of  the 
country,  cannot  exhibit  even  such  an  oasis.  It  is  unmitigated  desert. 
Not  a  tree  or  shrub  shows  itself  amid  the  baked  and  calcined  stone- 
work and  blistering  pavements  of  the  city ;  and  the  landscape  without 
looks  almost  as  arid.  The  place  is  considered  impregnable  to  a  foreign 
foe,  and  I  can't  imagine  that  foe  wanting  it  to  be  otherwise,  if  conquest 
involves  residence.  Entered  by  a  narrow  gap  commanded  by  batteries, 
the  harbor  is  a  round  and  spacious  one,  scooped  out  of  frowning  high- 
lands that  bear  on  the  apex  of  their  cones  unattainable  forts,  thrown 
up  like  the  rim  around  volcanic  craters.  There  is  but  one  level  access 
to  the  city  on  the  land  side,  and  that  is  blockaded  by  a  stout  wall  with 
a  single  gate.  Such  was  our  next  goal,  reached  after  a  quiet  night, 
which  Velveteen  and  I  spent  in  the  open  air,  having  carried  our  rugs 
and  pillows  up  from  the  state-room  on  its  invasion  by  new  passengers. 
At  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  our  vessel  stole  into  the  port.  There 
was  one  pale  amber  streak  in  the  east,  over  the  gloomy,  indistinct 
heights  studded  with  embrasured  walls  and  mine  chimneys.  By-and- 
by  a  brightness  grew  out  of  it.  Then  the  amber  was  reflected  in  the 
glassy  harbor.  An  arch  of  rose  cloud  sprung  up  after  this,  and  was 
also  reflected,  the  hills  lightening  to  a  faded  gray  and  brown.  All  this 
time  the  stars  continued  sparkling,  and  one  of  them  threw  rings  of 
dancing  diamond  on  the  broken  wave.  Suddenly  the  diamond  flash 
and  the  rose  tint  vanished,  and  it  was  broad  golden -white  day,  with 
calorific  beams  beating  strongly  upon  us,  instead  of  the  crepuscular 
chill  of  dawn  that  had  just  been  searching  our  veins. 

Cartagena  has  its  war  history,  of  course.  A  Commune  was  estab- 
lished there  by  Roque  Barcia  in  1873,  which  declined  allegiance  to  the 
republican  government  at  Madrid,  and  the  city  was  accordingly  be- 
sieged. Barcia  had  been  living  on  forced  loans  from  the  inhabitants, 
and  was  loath  to  go  ;  but  the  army  of  the  republic  made  a  few  dents 
in  the  stone  wall  with  twenty -pounders,  and  that  decided  him.  He 
got  on  board  the  Spanish  navy  in  the  harbor,  and  ran  away  with  it  to 
Africa.  Perhaps  that  accounts  for  the  slimness  of  the  naval  contin- 
gent now.     There  is  an  academy  for  cadets  in  the  place,  but  only  two 


MEDITERRANEAN    PORTS   AND   GARDENS. 


107 


small  ships-of-war  were  anchored  in  the  noble  bay.  The  town  of  Car- 
tagena is  remarkable  for  big  men  and  very  minute  donkeys.  The  men 
ride  on  the  donkeys  with  incredible  hardihood.  You  see  a  burly  Sancho 
Panza  flying  along  the  main  street  at  a  rapid  pace,  with  his  sandalled 
feet  some  three  inches  from  the  ground,  and  wonder  what  new  kind 
of  motor  he  has  discovered,  until  you  perceive  beneath  his  ponderous 
body  a  nervous,  vaguely  ecstatic  quivering  of  four  black  legs,  attached 
to  a  small  spot  of  head  from 
which  two  mulish  ears  project. 

There  is  not  much  to  see  in 
Cartagena.  Blind  people  seem 
to  be  numerous  there  —  a  fact 
which  may  be  owing  to  the  ex- 
cessive dazzle  of  the  sunlight 
and  absence  of  verdure.  But  I 
couldn't  help  thinking  some  of 
them  must  have  gone  blind  from 
sheer  ennui,  because  there  was 
nothing  around  them  worth 
looking  at.  Our  visit,  however, 
was  in  one  respect  a  success : 
we  found  a  broad  strip  of  shade 
there.  It  was  caused  by  the 
high  city  wall  intercepting  the 
forenoon  light.  Out  of  the 
shadow  some  enterprising  men 
had  constructed,  with  the  aid  of 
two  or  three  chairs  and  several 
pairs  of  shears,  a  barber's  shop 
al  fresco ;  and  asses  and  peas- 
ants, as  they  travelled  in  and 
out  through  the  city  gate,  stop- 
ped at  this  establishment  to 
be  shaved.  For  it  is  an  im- 
portant item  in  the  care  of  Spanish  donkeys  that  they  should  be 
sheared  as  to  the  back,  in  order  to  make  a  smoother  resting-place  for 
man  or  pannier.  So  while  the  master  held  his  animal  one  of  the  bar- 
bers plied  some  enormous  clacking  shears,  and  littered  the  ground  with 
mouse-colored  hair,  leaving  the  beast's  belly  fur-covered  below  a  fixed 
line,  and  for  a  small  additional  price  executing  a  raised  pattern  of  star- 


A  MODERN  SANCHO  PANZA. 


168 


SPANISH    VISTAS. 


points  around  the  neck.     The  tonsorial  profession  is  an  indispensable 
one  in  a  country  where  shaving"  the  whole  face  is   so  generally  prac- 


STREET   BARBER. 


tised  among  all  the  humbler  orders,  not  to  mention  toreros  and  eccle- 
siastics ;  but  the  discomfort  to  which  the  barber's  customers  submit 
is  astonishing.  Instead  of  being  pampered,  soothed,  labored  at  with 
confidential  respectfulness,  and  lulled  into  luxurious  harmony  with  him- 
self, as  happens  in  America,  a  man  who  courts  the  razor  in  Spain  has  to 
sit  upright  in  a  stiff  chair,  and  meekly  hold  under  his  chin  a  brass  basin 
full  of  suds,  and  fitting  his  throat  by  means  of  a  curved  nick  at  one 
side.  One  individual  we  saw  seated  by  the  dusty  road  at  the  gate, 
with  a  towel  around  his  shoulders  and  another  in  his  hands  to  catch 


MEDITERRANEAN    PORTS   AND    GARDENS. 


169 


his  own  falling  locks.  He  looked  submissive  and  miserable,  as  if  as- 
sisting at  his  own  degradation,  while  the  barber  was  magnified  into  a 
tyrant  exercising  sovereign  pleasure,  and  might  have  been  expected, 
should  the  whim  cross  him,  to  strike  off  his  victim's  head  instead  of 
his  hair. 

The  voyage  continued  as  charmingly  as  it  began.     Quiet  transitions 
from  the  deep  blue  outside  to  the  pronounced  green  within  the  harbors 


//• 


%x  J 


lilBLES    VERS  IS   MELON'S. 


were  its  most  startling  incidents.     The  colporteur  gave  tracts  to   the 
sailors,  or  traded   Bibles  for  melons  with  the  fruit  boys;  the  French- 


170  SPANISH   VISTAS. 

man,  who  was  making  a  commercial  tour  through  the  provinces,  be- 
stowed a  liberal  and  cheerful  disparagement  on  the  nation  which  af- 
forded him  a  business.  We  continued  to  eat  meals  in  holiday  fashion 
on  the  skylight  hatches,  and  slept  there  through  the  balmy  night,  oc- 
casionally seeing  the  sailors  clambering  on  the  taffrail  or  in  the  rigging, 
always  with  cigarettes,  the  glowing  points  of  which  shone  in  the  dark- 
ness like  fire-flies.  The  gravity  with  which  they  stuck  to  these papelitos 
while  knotting  ropes  or  lowering  a  boat  was  fascinating  in  its  inappro- 
priateness.  The  headlands  grew  less  bold  before  we  tied  to  the  dock 
at  Alicante  in  the  hush  of  a  sultry  night.  We  could  see  nothing  of 
the  town  except  a  bright  twinkle  of  lamps  along  the  quay,  contrasting 
gayly  with  the  blood-red  light  on  a  felucca  in  the  harbor,  its  long  vivid 
stain  trickling  away  through  the  water  like  the  current  from  a  wound  ; 
and  the  rules  of  the  customs  would  not  admit  of  our  landing  till 
morning;. 


II. 

OUR  trunks  had  been  on  the  dock  two  or  three  hours  when  we  de- 
barked in  a  small  boat,  and  some  fifteen  men  had  gathered  around 
them,  waiting  for  the  owners,  like  sharks  attracted  by  floating  frag- 
ments from  a  ship  and  wondering  what  manner  of  prey  is  coming  to 
them.  They  all  touched  their  caps  to  us  as  we  bumped  the  shore. 
These  cap-touches  are  worth  in  the  abstract  about  one  real — five  cents. 
The  grand  total  of  speculative  politeness  laid  out  upon  us  was  there- 
fore more  than  half  a  dollar;  but,  on  our  selecting  two  porters,  values 
rapidly  declined,  and  the  market  "  closed  in  a  depressed  condition." 
The  customs  officers  wore  a  wild,  freebooters'  sort  of  uniform  —  blue 
trousers  with  a  red  stripe,  blue  jeans  blouses  with  a  belt  and  long 
sword,  and  straw  hats.  They  were  also  very  lazy ;  and  while  we  were 
awaiting  their  attentions  we  had  time  to  observe  the  manner  of  un- 
loading merchandise  in  these  latitudes.  Every  box,  barrel,  or  bale 
hoisted  out  of  a  lighter  was  swung  by  a  rope  to  which  twenty  men 
lent  their  strength ;  there  were  three  more  men  in  the  lighter,  and 
three  others  arranged  the  hoisting  tackle;  in  all,  twenty-six  persons 
were  occupied  with  a  task  for  which  two  or  three  ought  to  suffice. 
Each  time,  the  crowd  of  haulers  fastened  on  the  cable,  ran  off  franti- 
cally with  it,  and  then,  in  a  simultaneous  fit  of  paralysis,  dropped  it  as 
the  burden  was  landed. 

These  laborers  wore  huge  straw  hats,  on  the  crown  of  which  was 


MEDITERRANEAN    PORTS   AND    GARDENS. 


171 


fitted  a  birreta,  the  small  ordinary  blue  cap  of  the  country.  They  had 
a  queer  air  of  carrying  this  superfluous  cap  around  on  top  of  the  head 
as  a  sort  of  solemn  ceremony.  The  wharf  was  alive,  too,  with  small 
wagons,  roofed  over  by  a  cover 
of  heavy  matting  made  of  esparto 
grass,  and  furnished  with  a  long, 
rough-barked  pole  at  the  side,  to 
be  used  as  a  brake.  Above  this 
busy  scene  towered  a  luminous 
sienna-tinted  cliff,  sustaining  the 
castle  of  Santa  Barbara  poised  in 
the  white  air  like  a  dream-edifice  ; 
though  a  rift  high  up  in  the  hill 
marks  the  spot  where  the  French 
exploded  a  mine  during  the  Pen- 
insular war.  All  these  Mediter- 
ranean towns  are  guarded  by 
some  such  eagle's  eyry  overlook- 
ing the  sea,  and  the  old  mon- 
archs  showed  a  fine  poetic  sense 
in  granting  them  for  municipal 
arms  their  local  castle  resting  on 
a  wave.  Close  to  the  lapping 
waters  lay  the  serried  houses, 
bordered  by  an  esplanade  plant- 
ed with  rows  of  short  palms. 
When  the  carbineers  had  looked 
vaguely  into  our  trunks,  and  shut 
them  again,  the  porters  tossed 
them  into  a  little  cart,  and  plunged  into  the  town  at  a  pace  with 
which  we  could  compete  only  so  far  as  to  keep  them  in  sight  while 
they  twisted  first  around  one  corner  and  then  another,  and  then  up 
a  long  chalky  street  to  the  Fonda  Bossio,  which  has  the  name  of  be- 
ing the  best  hotel  in  Spain.  It  has  excellent  cookery,  and  some  fur- 
longs of  tile-floored  corridor,  which  the  servants  apparently  believe  to 
be  streets,  for  they  water  thern  every  day,  just  as  the  thoroughfares 
are  watered,  out  of  tin  basins.  We  were  overwhelmed  with  courtesy. 
For  instance,  I  would  call  the  waiter. 

"  Command  me,  your  grace,"  was  his  reply. 

"  Can  you  bring  me  some  fresh  water?"  ("  Fresh"  always  means  cold.) 


CUSTOMS    OFFICERS. 


172 


SPANISH   VISTAS. 


POST    INN,  ALICANTE. 

"  With  all  the  will  in  the  world." 

When  he  came  with  it  I  tried  to  rise  to  his  standard  by  saying, 
"  Thanks — a  thousand  thanks." 

"They  do  not  merit  themselves,  senor,"  said  he,  not  to  be  outdone. 

I  asked  if  I  could  have  a  garspacJio  for  breakfast.  The  garspacho 
is  an  Andalusian  soup-salad,  very  cooling,  made  of  stewed  and  strained 


MEDITERRANEAN    PORTS   AND   GARDENS.  m 

tomato,  water,  vinegar,  sliced  cucumber,  boiled  green  peppers  a  dash 
of  garhc,  and  some  bits  of  bread  ;  the  whole  served  frost  cold 

1   don  t  know-it   is  not  in  the  list.     I  feel  it,  senor.    'it  weighs 
upon  my  sou,.     But  I  wi„  see,  and  wil,  return  in  »  Ave  Maria  to  let 

He  never  left  me  without  asking,  "  I.  there  anything  wanting  still  ?" 


174:  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

The  waiters  and  chamber-maids  ate  their  meals  at  little  tables  in  the 
hall,  and  whenever  I  passed  them,  if  they  were  eating,  they  made  a 
gracious  gesture  toward  their pillau  of  rice.  "Would  your  grace  like 
to  eat  ?" 

This  offer  to  share  their  food  with  any  one  who  goes  by  is  a  simple 
and  kindly  inheritance  from  the  East ;  but  it  becomes  a  little  embar- 
rassing, and  I  longed  for  a  pair  of  back  stairs  to  slink  away  by,  with- 
out having  to  decline  their  hospitality  every  time  I  went  out. 

To  go  out  in  the  middle  of  the  day  was  like  looking  into  the  sun 
itself.  Everybody  stayed  in-doors  behind  thick  curtains  of  matting, 
and  dozed  or  dripped  away  the  time  in  idle  perspiration  ;  but  hearing 
unaccountable  blasts  of  orchestral  music  during  this  forced  retirement, 
I  inquired,  and  found  them  to  proceed  from  the  rehearsal  of  a  Madrid 
opera  company  then  in  Alicante.  Our  attendant  at  table  proved  to 
be  a  duplex  character — a  serving-man  by  day  and  a  fourteenth  lord  in 
the  chorus  by  night,  with  black  and  yellow  stockings,  and  a  number 
of  gestures  indicating  astonishment,  indignation,  or,  in  fact,  anything 
that  the  emergency  required.  We  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him  on 
the  stage  that  very  evening,  and  of  listening  to  an  extravagant  per- 
formance of  "  La  Favorita,"  between  two  acts  of  which  an  usher  came 
in  and  collected  the  tickets  of  the  whole  audience.  The  theatre  was 
remarkably  spacious  for  a  town  of  thirty  thousand  inhabitants;  but 
Alicante  is  a  favorite  winter  resort,  and  even  maintains  a  "  Gallistic 
Circus;"  that  is,  a  place  for  cock-fights. 

The  Garden  of  Alicante  is  a  luscious  spot,  hidden  away  some  two 
or  three  miles  from  the  town,  and  owned  by  the  Marques  de  Venalua, 
a  young  man  of  large  wealth,  who  spends  all  his  time  at  Alicante,  and 
is  a  public  benefactor,  having  introduced  water  in  pipes  at  his  own  ex- 
pense. The  carriage  and  consumption  of  water,  indeed,  seemed  to  be 
the  chief  business  of  the  population.  They  have  a  system  of  fountains 
for  distributing  sea-water  from  which  the  salt  has  been  extracted,  and 
women  and  children  are  kept  going  to  these  with  huge  jars,  to  satisfy 
the  local  thirst.  To  be  born  thirst}7,  live  thirst}',  and  die  so,  is  a  privi- 
lege enjoyable  only  in  countries  like  Southern  Spain.  One  can  form 
there,  too,  a  vivid  idea  of  the  desert,  from  the  delight  with  which  he 
hails  the  green  Huerta,  or  garden.  The  road  and  fields  on  the  way 
thither  were  like  a  waste  of  cinders  and  ashes.  The  almond  and  fig 
trees,  the  pomegranates  and  algarrobas  beside  the  way,  were  coated 
with  dust  that  lay  upon  them  like  thin  snow  ;  and  the  almond-nuts, 
where  the}-  hung  in  sight,  resembled  plaster  casts,  so  pervasive  was  the 


.MEDITERRANEAN    PORTS   AND    GARDENS. 


175 


white  deposit.  But  all  at  once  we  mounted  a  low  rise,  and  the  wide- 
stretch  of  verdant  plantations  lay  before  us,  thick-foliaged,  cooi,  sweet, 
and  refreshing,  with  villas  embowered  among  the  oranges  and  palms,  a 
screen  of  dim  mountains  beyond,  and  the  silent  blue  sea  brimming  the 
horizon  on  the  right.  It  was  a  spectacle  delicious  as  sleep  to  tired  eyes ; 
it  brought  a  cry  of  pleasure  to  my  lips  and  grateful  life  to  the  heart. 

But  this  spot,  lovely  as  it  is,  becomes  insignificant  beside  the  glori- 
ous Huerta  of  Valencia,  stretching  for  more  than  thirty  miles  from  the 
olive-clad  hills  around  Jativa  to  that  city,  which  is  the  pleasantest  in 
Mediterranean  Spain,  and  the  most  characteristic  of  all,  after  Toledo, 


METHOD    OF   IRRIGATION   NEAR   VALENCIA. 


Granada,  and  Sevilla.  There  one  travels  through  an  unbroken  tract 
of  superb  cultivation — a  garden  in  exact  literalness,  yet  a  territory  in 
size. 

We  took  the  rail  from  Alicante  in  the  evening;  but  a  mass  of  Oran 
fugitives,  escorted  by  a  company  of  soldiers  (for  the  most  part  drunk), 
encumbered  our  train,  and  delayed  its  starting  for  an  hour  or  two. 
Then  followed  a  slow,  wearisome  ride  through  the  black  night,  with  a 


170 


SPANISH   VISTAS. 


CHURCH    OF    SANTA   CATALINA,    VALENCIA. 


change  at  the  junction  of  La  Encina  about  twelve  o'clock,  involving 
much  tribulation  in  the  re-weighing  and  renewed  registering  of  bag- 
gage ;  after  which  we  were  stowed  into  a  totally  dark  compartment  of 
the  other  train,  and  made  to  wait  three  hours  longer.     With  the  first 


MEDITERRANEAN    PORTS   AND   GARDENS.  177 

rays  of  dawn  our  locomotive  began  to  creep,  and  we  fell  into  a  doze, 
from  which  I  was  awakened  after  a  while  by  the  loud  irruption  of 
somebody  into  our  carriage,  accompanied  by  a  jangle  like  that  of 
sleigh -bells.  It  turned  out  to  be  a  peasant,  who,  in  consequence  of 
the  general  over-crowding,  had  been  ushered  into  the  first-class  car- 
riage, bringing  with  him  a  couple  of  children  and  some  mule-harness 
provided  with  bells.  I  was  inclined  to  be  indignant  with  him  for  his 
disturbing  intrusion  ;  but,  as  it  was  now  broad  daylight,  I  began  to 
look  out  of  the  window,  and  soon  had  cause  to  consider  the  peasant 
a  benefactor;  for  we  were  just  leaving  Jativa,  a  most  picturesque  old 
town,  with  a  castle  famous  even  in  Roman  times;  the  native  place, 
also,  of  the  Borgias  (Pope  Calixtus  III.,  and  Rodrigro,  the  father  of 
Caesar  Borgia).  Immediately  afterward  we  entered  the  garden  re- 
gion. Miles  of  carefully-tended  growth,  thousands  of  orchards  linked 
together  in  one  series,  acres  upon  acres  of  fields  where  every  square 
inch  is  made  to  yield  abundantly —  such  is  the  Huerta  of  Valencia. 
We  passed  endless  orange  -  groves,  each  single  tree  in  which  had  its 
circle  of  banked  earth  to  hold  the  water  when  let  on  from  the  canals 
of  tile  that  coursed  everywhere  like  veins  of  silver,  carrying  life  to  the 
harvests.  Then  came  vast  fields  dotted  with  the  yellow  blossom  of  the 
pea-nut,  on  low  vine-like  plants.  Again,  breadths  of  citron  and  lemon, 
followed  by  extensive  rice  farms,  where  the  cultivators  stood  dressing 
the  unripe  plantations,  up  to  their  ankles  in  the  water  of  a  feathery 
green  swamp.  Not  a  rood  of  earth  is  unimproved,  excepting  where 
some  thriving  red-roofed  village  is  hemmed  in  by  the  fragrant  paradise. 
In  one  place  you  will  see,  perhaps,  a  mouldering  red  tower  like  those  of 
the  Alhambra,  or  a  church  spire  lifted  amid  the  trees,  and,  high  above 
the  other  greenery,  clusters  of  date-palms  leaning  together,  as  if  they 
whispered  among  themselves  of  other  days.  Near  by  is  the  Lake  of 
Albufera,  close  to  the  sea  and  twenty-seven  miles  in  circumference — 
nourished  both  from  the  sea  and  from  the  river  Turia,  so  that  it  be- 
comes an  immense  reservoir  of  fish  and  game.  Its  marshy  edges  once 
offered  shelter  to  numerous  smugglers,  and  it  is  said  that  General  Prim, 
who  was  on  good  terms  with  them,  found  a  hiding-place  there  while  in 
danger  and  before  he  came  to  power.  No  wonder  that  the  Cid  fought 
gallantly  to  win  this  land  from  the  infidel,  and  when  he  had  gained  it 
sent  for  his  wife  and  daughter  from  distant  Burgos  to  come  and  see 
the  prize!  Its  fertility  to-day,  however,  is  due  to  the  irrigation  intro- 
duced by  the  Moors,  and  since  maintained.  The  same  thing  could  be 
done  with  the  Tagus  and  Ebro  rivers,  but  the  Spaniard  having  had  the 

12 


ITS 


SPANISH    VISTAS. 


example  before  him  for  only  about  six  centuries,  has  not  yet  found 
time  to  follow  it.  The  water  supply  is  so  precious  that  proprietors  are 
allowed  to  use  it  for  their  own  crops  only  on  fixed  days,  and  for  so 
many  hours  at  a  time.  Disputes  of  course  arise,  but  they  are  settled 
by  the  Water  Court— a  tribunal  without  appeal,  consisting  of  twelve 
peasant  proprietors,  who  meet  once  a  week  in  Valencia;  and  I  saw 
them  there  holding  their  session  in  very  primitive  style,  on  a  long 
pink  sofa  set  in  an  arched  door-way  of  the  cathedral. 

Valencia  was  in  the  midst  of  its  annual  festival  when  we  arrived  ; 
a  bright,  gay,  spirited,  and  busy  town,  more  cheerful  than  ever  just 
then.  There  were  to  be  three  days  of  bull-fighting  — "  bulls  to  the 
death!" — with  eight  taurian  victims  each  day;  the  best  swordsmen  in 
Spain ;  and  horses  and  mules  displaying  gilded  and  silvered  hoofs. 
The   theatres  were   perfumed.     There  were   match   games   of  pelota— 

rackets — the  national  substitute 
for  cricket  or  base-ball ;  and  a 
week's  fair  was  in  progress  on 
the  other  side  of  the  river 
Turia,  with  bannered  pavilions, 
thousands  of  painted  lanterns; 
lotteries,  concerts,  and  booth 
shows,  to  which  the  admission 
was  "  half  price  for  children  and 
soldiers."  Trade  was  brisk  also 
in  the  city ;  brisk  in  the  Mer- 
cado,  that  quaint  business  street  crowded  with  little  stalls,  and  with 
peasants  in  blue,  red,  yellow,  mantled  and  cothurned,  their  heads  top- 
ped with  pointed  hats  or  wrapped  with  variegated  handkerchiefs  deftly 
knotted  into  a  high  crown  ;  brisk,  likewise,  in  those  peculiar  shops  be- 
hind the  antique  Silk  Exchange,  which  are  named  from  the  signs  they 
hang  out,  representing  the  Blessed  Virgin,  Christ,  John  the  Baptist,  or 
the  Bleeding  Heart.  One  had  for  its  device  a  rose,  and  another,  dis- 
tinguished by  two  large  toy  lambs  placed  at  its  door,  was  known  with- 
out other  distinction  as  the  Lamb  of  God.  But  in  the  more  modern 
quarter  the  shop-keepers  ventured  on  a  Parisian  brilliancy  which  we 
did  not  encounter  anywhere  else.  Their  arrangement  of  wares  was 
prettily  effective,  and  the  fashion  prevailed  of  having  curtains  for  the 
show-windows  painted  with  figures  in  modern  dress,  done  in  exceeding- 
ly clever,  artistic  style,  well  drawn,  full  of  humor  and  fine  realistic  char- 
acterization. 


A   VALENCIA   CAB. 


MEDITERRANEAN    PORTS   AND   GARDENS.  179 

Altogether,  Valencia  is  the  cheeriest  of  Spanish  cities,  unless  one 
excepts  Barcelona,  which  is  half  French,  and  in  its  present  estate  whol- 
ly modern.  Moreover,  Valencia  abounds  in  racy  and  local  traits,  both 
of  architecture  and  humanity.  The  Street  of  the  Cavaliers  is  lined 
with  sombre,  strange,  shabbily  elegant  old  mansions  of  the  nobility, 
with  Gothic  windows  and  open  arcades  in  the  top  story ;  the  new 
houses  are  gayly  tinted  in  blue  and  rose  and  cream -color;  and  the 
gourd-like  domes  of  the  cathedral  and  other  large  buildings  glisten  with 
blue  tiles  and  white,  set  in  stripes.  You  find  yourself  continually,  as 
you  come  from  various  quarters,  bringing  up  in  sight  of  the  octagonal 
tower  of  Santa  Catalina,  strangely  suggestive  of  a  pagoda,  without  in 
the  least  being  one.  The  Silk  Exchange,  from  which  the  shining  web 
that  wealth  is  woven  out  of  has  long  since  vanished,  contains  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  of  existing  Gothic  halls  under  a  roof  sustained  by 
fluted  and  twisted  pillars,  themselves  light  as  knotted  skeins ;  while 
from  the  outer  cornice  grotesque  shapes  peer  out  over  the  life  of  to- 
day;  a  grinning  monk,  an  imp  playing  a  guitar,  a  crumbling  buzzard, 
serving  as  gargoyles.  Just  opposite  is  the  market,  where  you  may  buy 
enormous  bunches  of  luscious  white  grapes  for  a  penny,  or  pry  into 
second-hand  shops  rich  in  those  brilliant  mantles  with  the  "  cat  "  fringe 
of  balls,  for  which  the  town  is  as  noted  as  for  its  export  of  oranges. 
The  old  battlemented  walls  of  the  city,  it  is  true,  have  been  torn  down  : 
it  was  done  simply  to  give  employment  to  the  poor  a  few  years  since. 
But  there  are  some  fine  old  gates  remaining — those  of  Serranos  and 
Del  Cuarte.  We  drove  out  of  one  and  came  in  by  the  other,  about 
half  a  mile  away — a  diversion  that  brought  us  under  a  rigid  examina- 
tion from  the  customs  guard,  which  levies  a  tax  on  every  basket  of 
produce  brought  in  from  the  country,  and  was  inclined  to  regard  us 
as  a  dutiable  importation. 

One  may  go  quite  freely  to  the  port,  however — the  Grao — -which  is 
two  miles  distant.  A  broad  boulevard  hedged  with  sycamores  leads 
thither,  which  in  summer  is  crowded  by  tartanas — bouncing  little  cov- 
ered wagons  lined  with  crimson  curtains,  and  usually  carrying  a  load 
of  pretty  seiioritas —  and  by  more  imposing  equipages  adorned  with 
footmen  in  the  English  style.  Everybody  goes  to  the  shore  to  bathe 
toward  evening,  for  Valencia  is  the  Brighton  of  the  Madrilenos.  The 
little  bathing  establishments  extend  for  a  long  distance  on  the  sands, 
and  are  very  neat.  Each  has  its  fanciful  name,  as  "The  Pearl,"  or 
"The  Madrid  Girl,"  and  the  proprietors  stand  in  front  vociferously  so- 
liciting your  custom.     Between  these   and  the   water  are  refreshment 


180 


SPANISH    VISTAS. 


BARCELONA    FISHERMEN. 


sheds  with  tables,  and  every  one  eats  or  drinks  on  coming  out  of  the 
sea.  Farther  down  the  shore  the  women  have  their  own  houses,  and 
a  fence  of  reeds  protects  them  from  intrusion  while  they  are  running 
to  or  from  the  surf;  but  it  is  my  duty  to  record  that  the  men  formed 
a  line  at  this  fence,  and  systematically  gazed  through  the  breaks  in  it, 
which  was  the  more  embarrassing,  perhaps,  because  the  fair  Valencians 
bathe  in  very  plain,  baggy,  and  ugly  gowns.  On  the  streets  or  in  the 
Glorieta  Garden,  and  in  their  proper  habiliments,  they  are  the  noblest 
looking  and  most  beautiful  of  Spanish  women,  often  possessing  flax- 
en hair  and  dark -blue  eyes  which  recall  a  Gothic  ancestry,  together 
with  something  simple  and  regular  about  the  features  that  is  perhaps 
due  to  the  ancient  Greek  colonization.  At  still  another  part  of  the 
beach  horses  were  allowed  to  go  into  the  waves;  and  this  was  a  sight 
also  eminently  Greek  in  its  suggestion.  Naked  boys  bestrode  the  ani- 
mals, and  urged  them  forward  into  the  spray-fringed  tide.  The  arched 
necks,  the  prancing  movement  of  the  horses,  the  sportive  shock  of  foam 
against  their  broad  chests,  and  the  pressing  knees  of  the  nude  riders 


MEDITERRANEAN    PORTS   AND   GARDENS.  181 

in  full  play  of  muscle  to  keep  their  seats,  were  like  a  breathing  and 
stirring  relief  on  some  temple  frieze,  clear-cut  in  the  pure  and  sparkling 
sunlight.  There  was  once  a  Valencian  school  of  painters,  but  we  saw 
nothing  of  this  in  their  work.  The  museum  offers  what  our  newspapers 
would  call  a  "  carnival  "  of  rubbish,  but  it  also  contains  some  striking, 
shadowy,  startlingly  lighted  canvases  of  Ribalta  —  saints  and  martyrs 
and  ascetics  vividly  but  not  joyously  portrayed  ;  a  few  wonderful  por- 
traits by  Goya,  fresh  as  if  only  just  completed  ;  and  one  of  Velasquez's 
three  portraits  of  himself. 

From  Valencia  to  Barcelona  the  valleys  along  the  coast  are  fertile. 
Vineyards,  spreading  their  long  files  of  green  over  a  warm  red  soil  that 
seems  tinged  with  the  blood  of  the  grape,  vie  with  the  olive  in  that 
picturesque,  productive  belt  between  the  hills  and  the  blue,  swelling 
sweep  of  the  Mediterranean.  Here  is  Murviedro,  the  old  Saguntum, 
once  the  scene  of  a  fierce  siege  and  horrible  sufferings,  now  basking 
quietly  in  the  hot  light— a  time-worn,  sun-tanned,  beggared  old  city,' 
which  is  not  ashamed  to  make  a  show  of  its  decayed  Roman  theatre  ; 
and  farther  on  Tarragona,  which  professes  to  have  had  at  one  time  a 
million  inhabitants,  and  is  now  a  little  wine-producing  town.  Churches 
and  castles,  rich  in  delicate  workmanship  and  all  manner  of  historic 
association,  crop  up  everywhere.  The  very  shards  in  the  fields,  you 
fancy,  may  suddenly  unfold  something  of  that  full  and  varied  past 
which  was  once  as  real  as  to-day's  meridian  glow.  Yet  at  any  moment 
you  may  lose  sight  of  all  this  in  the  brilliant,  stimulating,  yet  softly 
modified  beauty  of  the  landscape's  colors,  and  your  whole  mind  is  ab- 
sorbed by  the  vague  neutral  hues  of  a  treeless  hill-side,  or  the  rich, 
positive  blue  of  the  sea,  in  which  the  white  sail  of  a  chalupa  seems  to 
be  inlaid  like  a  bit  of  ivory. 

All  the  while,  as  you  go  northward,  Spain — the  real  Spain — is  slip- 
ping from  you.  The  palms  disappear  as  if  a  noiseless  earthquake  had 
swallowed  them  up  ;  even  the  olive  becomes  less  frequent,  and  by-and- 
by  you  are  in  piny  Catalonia.  You  reach  Barcelona,  the  greatest  com- 
mercial city  of  the  kingdom,  and  you  find  it  the  boast  of  the  citizens 
that  they  are  not  Spaniards.  They  are  Spanish  mainly  in  their  love 
of  revolt.  So  prompt  are  they  to  join  in  every  uprising,  that  the  garri- 
son quartered  there  has  to  be  kept  as  high  as  ten  thousand  men  ;  but 
for  the  most  part  it  is  rather  a  French  maritime  depot  than  a  thing  of 
ancient  or  peculiar  Spain.  There  is  a  large  and  artificial  park  on  one 
side,  and  the  fort  of  Monjuich  on  the  other,  and  a  lot  of  shipping  in 
the    harbor;    and   a    glorious    embowered    avenue,  called   the   Rambla, 


L82  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

where  pale-faced,  long-lashed,  coquettishly  smiling  women  walk  in  great 
numbers,  carrying  out  the  usual  national  custom  of  a  peripatetic  recep- 
tion and  conversation  part}'.  It  was  the  feast  of  Santiago  when  we 
came — it  is  always  a  feast  of  something  everywhere  in  that  pious  coun- 
try— and  the  theatres  were  doing  a  great  business  with  trifling  plays 
and  charming  ballets.  Barcelona  is  not  only  the  industrious  city,  it  is 
also  the  cultivated  one  of  the  Peninsula.  The  opera  there  is  one  of 
the  best  in  the  world,  and  was  once  carried  off  bodily  to  Madrid  by  an 
ardent  manager,  who  for  his  pains  received  the  scorn  of  the  envious 
Madrid  people :  they  would  not  come  to  his  performances,  and  he  was 
almost  ruined  in  consequence. 

The  old  cathedral  of  the  city  is  a  temple  singularly  impressive  by 
simple  means — a  sober  Spanish-Gothic  structure  bathed  in  a  perpetual 
gloom,  through  which  the  stained  windows  show  with  a  jewelled  splen- 
dor almost  supernatural.  The  weirdness  of  the  interior  effect  is  far- 
ther intensified  by  the  dark  pit  of  Santa  Eulalia's  shrine  opening  under 
the  altar,  and  set  with  a  row  of  burning  lamps,  on  which  the  darkness 
seems  to  hang  like  a  cloak  depending  from  a  chain  of  gold.  The  in- 
variable rule  in  Spanish  cathedrals  is  that  the  choir  should  be  placed 
in  the  central  nave,  like  that  at  Westminster  Abbey,  and  elaborated 
into  a  complete  enclosure  by  itself — which,  although  it  interferes  with 
the  total  effect  of  the  interior,  is  frequently  very  striking  in  its  lavish 
agglomeration  of  carved  wood  and  stone,  metal  railings,  gilding,  and 
similar  details.  It  was  in  the  peculiarly  picturesque  choir  of  this  cathe- 
dral of  Santa  Eulalia  that  the  order  of  the  Golden  Fleece  was  once 
convened  by  Charles  V.,  and  the  panels  over  the  stalls  are  blazoned 
with  the  bearings  of  the  various  nations  and  nobles  represented  in  that 
body.  Being  discovered  only  after  one  has  grown  accustomed  to  the 
dark,  these  fading  glories  of  heraldry  steal  gradually  upon  the  eye,  as 
if  through  the  obscuring  night  of  time.  I  found  the  ancient  cloister, 
without,  on  the  south-west  side,  a  delightful,  shadowy,  suggestive  place: 
there,  too,  may  be  seen  a  fountain  surmounted  by  a  small  equestrian 
statue  of  St.  George,  which  reminds  one  of  a  fabulous  story  in  Mun- 
chausen ;  for  the  tail  of  the  horse  is  formed  by  a  jet  of  water  flowing 
out  of  the  body  at  the  rear.  Inside  the  church  again  hangs,  under  the 
organ-loft,  an  enormous  wooden  and  painted  Saracen's  head — a  species 
of  relic  not  uncommon,  I  believe,  in  Catalonian  temples.  It  may  be 
added  here  that  the  custom  of  the  "  historical  giants  "  at  Corpus  Christi 
is  maintained  in  Barcelona  as  we  had  seen  it  at  Burgos,  and  those  effi- 
gies are  stowed  away  somewhere  in  the  sacred  precincts.     There  is  a 


MEDITERRANEAN    PORTS   AND   GARDENS.  Is;; 

curious  mingling  of  the  naive  and  the  sophisticated  in  the  fact  that 
some  of  the  giants,  wearing  female  attire,  have  new  dresses  for  each 
year,  and  thereby  set  the  fashions  for  the  ensuing  twelvemonth  for  all 
the  womankind  of  the  city.  And  however  advanced  the  urban  society 
may  be,  with  its  trade,  its  opera,  its  books,  gilded  cafes  and  superb  clubs, 
the  spirit  of  progress  does  not  spread  very  far  into  the  country.  When 
a  piece  of  railroad  was  built,  not  very  long  ago,  opening  up  a  new  rural 
section  in  the  neighborhood,  the  peasants  watched  the  advance  of  the 
locomotive  along  the  rails  with  profound  interest.  Finally,  one  old 
man  asked,  "  But  where  is  the  mule  kept? — inside?" 

He  was  willing  to  admit  that  the  engine  worked  finely,  but  no 
power  could  convince  him  that  it  was  possible  for  it  to  go  by  other 
impulsion  than  that  of  a  mule's  legs. 

Another  relic  of  by-gone  times  is  the  cap  universally  worn  in  this 
region  by  the  longshoremen,  the  fishers,  and  the  male  portion  of  the 
lower  orders  generally ;  for  it  is  nothing  less  than  the  old  Phrygian 
liberty  cap,  imported  hither  by  the  Paul  Pry  Phoenicians  ages  ago. 
Woven  in  a  single  piece,  it  appears  at  first  sight  to  be  a  long,  soft, 
commodious  bag,  tinted  with  vermilion  or  violet  or  brown  as  the  case 
may  be.  Into  the  aperture  the  native  inserts  his  head  and  then  pulls 
the  rest  of  the  flapping  contrivance  down  as  far  as  he  pleases,  letting 
the  end  float  loose  in  the  wind,  or  more  commonly  bringing  it  round 
to  the  front,  curling  it  over  and  tucking  it  in  upon  itself  in  such  a  way 
as  to  make  an  overhanging  protection  for  the  eyes,  and  to  give  the 
whole  a  look  that  recalls  the  top  of  an  Oxford  student's  cap.  With 
this  head-gear,  and  wearing  sandals  made  of  fine  hempen  cord  tied  by 
long  black  tapes,  the  men  presented  a  free,  half  barbarous  and  suffi- 
ciently picturesque  appearance.  I  don't  know  how  long  we  might  have 
continued  to  roam  the  streets  of  Barcelona,  listening  to  the  uncouth 
patois  of  the  locality,  in  which  French  and  Spanish  words  are  so  out- 
landishly  mingled,  nor  how  long  we  should  have  clung  to  the  rem- 
nants of  architecture  and  history  that  jutted  seductively  above  the  sur- 
face of  the  modern  here  and  there,  if  it  had  not  been  that  cold  necessi- 
ty limited  our  time  and  propelled  us  relentlessly  northward.  Even  now 
I  find  that  my  pen  is  reluctant  to  leave  the  tracing  of  those  vanished 
scenes,  and  hesitates  to  write  the  last  word  as  much  as  if  it  were  an 
enchanter's  wand,  instead  of  a  plain,  business-like  little  instrument. 

With  its  usual  fatuity  the  railroad  obliged  us  to  start  so  early  that 
at  the  first  dusky  gray  streak  of  dawn  we  were  dismally  taking  our 
coffee  in  the  patio  of  the  hotel.     The  dueno  was  sleeping  by  sections 


L84  SPANISH   VISTAS. 

on  two  hard  chairs,  considerately  screened  from  us  by  a  clump  of 
orange  shrubs,  and  murmuring  now  and  then  some  direction  to  the 
half -invisible  waiter  floating  about  in  a  dark  arcade;  but  he  roused 
himself,  and  woke  up  wholly  for  a  minute  or  two  while  perpetrating 
a  final  extortion.  Otherwise  the  silence  was  profound.  It  was  the 
silence  of  the  past,  the  unseen  current  of  oblivion  that  sets  in  and  be- 
gins to  eddy  round  the  facts  of  to-day,  in  such  a  country,  the  moment 
human  activity  is  suspended  or  the  reality  of  the  present  is  at  all 
dimmed.  Silence  here  leads  at  once  to  retrospection;  differing  in  this 
from  the  mute  solitude  of  American  places,  which  somehow  always 
tingles  with  anticipation.  And  the  dueiio,  in  overcharging  us,  became 
only  the  type  of  a  long  line  of  historic  plunderers  that  have  infested 
the  Peninsula  from  the  date  of  the  Roman  rule  down  to  the  incursion 
of  Napoleon  and  the  most  recent  period.  His  little  game  was  invest- 
ed with  all  the  dignity  of  history  and  tradition.  The  sickly  light  of 
day  above  the  court  struggled  feebly  and  dividedly  with  the  waning 
yellow  of  the  candle-flame  on  our  table. 

"After  all,"  said  Velveteen,  "I'm  glad  to  be  going,  for  this  is  no 
longer  Spain." 

And  yet,  at  the  instant  of  leaving,  we  discovered  that  it  was  indeed 
Spain,  and  a  pang  of  regret  followed  those  words. 

As  we  issued  from  the  hotel  we  saw,  crossing  the  street  in  the  in- 
creased dawn-light,  and  striding  toward  the  depot,  the  two  Civil  Guards. 
It  looked  as  if  we  should  be  captured  on  the  very  threshold  of  liberty. 
The  thought  lent  wings  to  our  haste.  .  .  .  Some  hours  afterward,  when 
we  were  passing  through  the  tunnels  of  the  Pyrenees,  we  congratulated 
ourselves  on  our  escape;  and,  indeed,  as  we  looked  back  to  the  moun- 
tain-wall from  France,  we  could  fancy  we  saw  two  specks  on  the  sum- 
mit which  might  have  been  our  pursuers.  They  were  too  late!  Their 
own  excess  of  mystery  had  baffled  them.  They  had  dogged  us  every 
league  of  the  way,  and  yet  we  had  traversed  Spain  without  being  de- 
tected as — what?  I  really  don't  know,  but  I'm  sure  those  Civil  Guards 
must.  If  not,  their  military  glare,  their  guns,  and  their  secrecy  are  the 
merest  mockeries. 

How  softly  the  waves  broke  along  the  Mediterranean  sands  that 
morning,  close  to  the  rails  over  which  we  were  flying !  Green  and 
white,  or  violet,  and  shimmered  over  by  the  crimson  splendor  of  the 
illumined  East,  they  surged  one  after  another  upon  the  golden  shore 
and  spent  themselves  like  wasted  treasure.  There  was  something 
mournful  in  their  movement — something  very  sad  in  the  presence  of 


MEDITERRANEAN    PORTS   AND    GARDENS. 


1  85 


this  beauty  which  I  was  never  to  see  again.  Did  I  not  hear  mingled 
with  the  sparkling  flash  and  murmur  of  those  waves  a  long-drawn 
"  A-a-ay  /" — the  most  pathetic  of  Spanish  syllables,  which  had  thrown 
its  shadow  across  the  fervid  little  songs  heard  so  often  by  the  way? 

"Bird,  little  bird  that  wheelest 
Through  God's  fair  worlds  in  the  sky  " — 

the  strain  came  back  again,  with  the  memory  of  a  low-tuned  guitar; 
and  the  waves  went  on,  arriving  and  departing;  and  the  land  of  our 
pilgrimage  steadily  receded.  The  waves  are  breaking  yet  on  that  wind- 
less coast;  but,  for  us,  Spain — brilliant,  tawny,  bright -vestured  Spain, 
with  all  its  ruins  and  poetry,  its  desolation  and  beauty  and  gaudy 
semi-barbarism  —  has  been  rapt  away  once  more  into  the  atmosphere 
of  distance  and  of  dreams! 


180 


SPANISH   VISTAS. 


HINTS    TO    TRAVELLERS. 

PAIN  is  by  no  means  so  difficult 
a  country  to  reach,  nor  so  in- 
convenient to  travel  in  after  one 
has  got  there,  as  is  generally 
supposed.  Doubtless  the  ob- 
stacles which  it  presented  to  the 
tourist  until  within  a  few  years 
were  great ;  and  much  that  is 
disagreeable  still  remains  to  vex 
those  who  are  accustomed  to 
the  smoother  ways,  and  careful- 
ly-oiled machinery  for  travel,  of 
regions  more  civilized.  But  the 
establishment  of  a  system  of 
railroads,  describing  an  outline 
that  passes  through  nearly  all 
the  places  which  it  is  desirable 
to  visit,  has  supplied  a  means  of 
transit  sufficient,  safe,  and  pass- 
ably comfortable.  The  other 
disadvantages  formerly  opposed  to  the  inquiring  stranger  are  likewise 
in  process  of  diminution.  In  order  to  make  clear  the  exact  state  of 
things  likely  to  be  encountered  by  those  who,  having  followed  the 
present  writer  in  his  account  of  a  rapid  journey,  may  determine  to 
take  a  similar  direction  themselves,  this  chapter  of  suggestion  is  added, 
which  it  is  hoped  will  have  value  in  the  way  of  a  practical  equipment 
for  the  voyage. 

Patience. — The  first  requisite,  it  should  be  said,  in  one  about  to  visit 
Spain,  is  a  reasonable  amount  of  good-humored  patience,  with  which 
to  meet  discomforts  and  provoking  delays.  The  customs  of  that  coun- 
try are  not  to  be  reversed  by  fuming  at  them  ;  anger  will  not  aid  the 


HINTS   TO   TRAVELLERS.  187 

digestion  which  finds  itself  annoyed  by  a  peculiar  cookery;  and  no 
amount  of  irritation  will  suffice  to  make  Spanish  officials  and  keepers 
of  hostelries  one  whit  more  obliging  than  they  are  at  present — their 
regard  for  the  convenience  of  the  public  being  just  about  equal  to  that 
of  the  average  American  hotel  clerk  or  railroad  employe. 

Passports. — Next  to  patience  may  be  placed  a  passport ;  though  it 
differs  from  the  former  article  in  being  of  no  particular  use.  I  observe 
that  guide-books  lay  stress  upon  the  passport  as  something  very  im- 
portant ;  and,  no  doubt,  it  is  gratifying  to  possess  one.  There  is  a 
subtle  flattery  in  the  personal  relation,  approaching  familiarity,  which 
an  instrument  of  this  kind  seems  to  set  up  on  the  part  of  government 
toward  the  individual ;  there  is  a  charming  unreality,  moreover,  in  the 
description  it  gives  of  your  personal  appearance  and  the  color  of  your 
eyes,  making  you  feel,  when  you  read  it,  as  if  you  were  a  character  in 
fiction.  Following  the  rules,  I  procured  a  passport  and  put  it  into  a 
stout  envelope,  ready  for  much  use  and  constant  wear;  but  all  that  it 
accomplished  for  me  was  to  add  a  few  ounces  of  weight  to  my  im- 
pedimenta. No  one  ever  asked  for  it,  and  I  doubt  whether  the  mili- 
tary police  would  have  understood  what  it  was,  had  they  seen  it.  My 
experience  on  first  crossing  the  frontier  taught  me  never  to  volunteer 
useless  information.  Our  trunks  had  been  passed  after  a  mere  opening 
of  the  lids  and  lifting  of  the  trays,  and  an  officer  was  listlessly  examin- 
ing the  contents  of  my  shoulder-bag.  Thinking  that  he  was  troubled 
by  the  enigmatic  nature  of  a  few  harmless  opened  letters  which  it 
contained,  I  said,  re-assuringly,  as  he  was  dropping  them  back  into  their 
place,  "  They  are  only  letters." 

"  Letters  !"  he  repeated,  with  rekindled  vigilance.  And,  taking  up 
the  sheets  again,  of  which  he  could  not  understand  a  word,  he  squan- 
dered several  minutes  in  gazing  at  them  in  an  absurd  pretence  of  pro- 
fundity. 

If  I  had  insisted  on  unfurling  my  country's  passport,  I  should 
probably  have  been  taken  into  custody  at  once,  as  a  person  innocent 
enough  to  deserve  thorough  investigation.  Nevertheless,  a  passport 
may  be  a  good  thing  to  hold  in  reserve  for  possible  contingencies.  It 
is  said  also  to  be  of  use,  now  and  then,  in  securing  admission  to  gal- 
leries and  museums  on  days  or  at  hours  when  they  are  generally  closed 
to  the  public  ;  but  of  this  I  cannot  speak  from  experience. 

Custom-house. — We  had  no  great  difficulty  with  examinations  by 
custom-house  officers,  except  at  Barcelona,  where  we  arrived  about  one 
o'clock  in  the  morning  and  had  to  undergo  a  scene  excessively  annoy- 


138  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

ing  at  the  time,  but  comical  enough  in  the  retrospect.  Being  desirous 
to  embark  on  the  hotel  omnibus  in  search  of  quarters,  we  hastened  to 
the  baggage-room  to  claim  our  trunks  by  the  registry  receipt  given  us 
at  Valencia;  but  the  "carbineer"  explained  that  we  could  not  have 
them  just  then.  After  waiting  a  little,  we  took  out  keys  and  politely 
proposed  to  open  them  for  examination.  This,  also,  he  declined.  I 
then  offered  him  a  cigar,  which  he  accepted  in  a  very  gracious  way, 
giving  it  a  slight  flourish  and  shake  in  his  hand  (after  the  usual  man- 
ner), to  indicate  his  appreciation  of  the  courtesy;  but  still  he  made  no 
motion  to  accommodate  us  in  the  matter  we  had  most  at  heart.  Some 
agreeable  young  Scotchmen,  who  had  joined  our  party,  urged  me  to 
make  farther  demonstrations,  and  I  conferred  with  the  omnibus-driver, 
who  explained  that  we  must  wait  for  some  other  parcels  to  be  collected 
from  the  train  before  anything  could  be  done ;  accordingly,  we  waited. 
The  other  parcels  arrived  ;  the  policy  of  inaction  continued.  Mean- 
while, several  French  commercial  travellers,  who  had  journeyed  hither 
by  the  same  train  in  all  the  splendor  of  a  spurious  parlor-car,  chartered 
for  their  sole  use,  had  proceeded  around  the  station,  and  now  attacked 
the  bolted  doors  at  the  front  of  the  baggage-room  with  furious  pound- 
ings and  loud  bi-lingual  ejaculations.  But  even  this  had  no  effect.  I 
therefore  concluded  that  the  object  of  the  "carbineer's"  strategy  was 
a  bribe  ;  and,  for  the  first  and  only  time  in  our  journey,  I  administered 
one.  Getting  him  aside,  I  told  him  confidentially,  with  all  the  anima- 
tion proper  to  an  entirely  new  idea,  that  we  were  anxious  to  get  our 
belongings  examined  and  passed  promptly,  so  as  to  secure  a  resting- 
place  some  time  before  day,  and  that  we  should  be  greatly  obliged  if 
he  would  assist  us.  At  the  same  time  I  slipped  two  or  three  pesetas 
into  his  hand,  which  he  took  with  the  same  magnanimous  tolerance 
he  had  shown  on  receiving  the  cigar.  This  done,  he  once  more  re- 
lapsed into  apathy.  All  known  resources  had  now  been  exhausted, 
and  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  wait.  With  dismay  I  stood  by  and 
saw  my  silver  follow  the  cigar,  swallowed  up  in  the  abyss  of  official 
indifference  that  yawned  before  us  ;  and  to  my  companions,  who  had 
just  been  envying  me  my  slight  knowledge  of  Spanish,  and  admiring 
my  tact,  I  became  all  at  once  a  perfectly  useless  object,  a  specimen  of 
misguided  imbecility — all  owing  to  the  dense  unresponsiveness  of  the 
inspector,  whose  incapacity  to  act  assumed,  by  contrast  with  my  own 
fruitless  energy,  a  resemblance  to  genius.  The  oaths  and  poundings  of 
the  French  battalion  at  the  door  went  on  gallantly  all  the  time,  but 
were  quite  as  ineffectual  as  my  movement  on  the  rear. 


HINTS   TO    TRAVELLERS.  l,s;i 

Finally,  just  when  we  were  reduced  to  despair,  the  guard  roused 
himself  from  his  meditations,  rushed  to  the  door,  unbolted  it  to  the 
impatient  assailants,  and  passed  everything  in  the  room  without  the 
slightest  examination. 

The  whole  affair  remains  to  this  day  an  enigma;  and,  as  such,  one 
is  forced  to  accept  every  trouble  of  this  kind  in  the  Peninsula.  But, 
as  I  have  said,  matters  went  smoothly  enough  in  other  places.  Every 
important  town,  I  believe,  collects  its  imposts  even  on  articles  brought 
into  market  from  the  surrounding  country ;  and  at  Seville  we  paid  the 
hotel  interpreter  twenty  cents  as  the  nominal  duty  on  our  personal  be- 
longings. I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt  that  this  sum  went  to  swell 
his  own  private  revenue ;  at  all  events,  no  such  tariff  was  insisted  upon, 
or  even  suggested,  elsewhere.  The  only  rule  that  can  be  given  is  to 
await  the  action  of  customs  officials  without  heat,  and,  while  avoiding 
undue  eagerness  to  show  that  you  carry  nothing  dutiable,  hold  yourself 
in  readiness  to  unlock  and  exhibit  whatever  you  have.  In  case  a  fine 
should  be  exacted,  ask  for  a  receipt  for  the  amount ;  and,  if  it  seems 
to  be  excessive,  the  American  or  British  consul  or  commercial  agent 
may  afterward  be  appealed  to. 

Extra  Baggage. —  One  point  of  importance  in  this  connection  is  gen- 
erally overlooked.  Only  about  sixty  pounds'  weight  of  luggage  is  al- 
lowed to  each  traveller  ;  all  trunks  are  carefully  weighed  at  every  sta- 
tion of  departure,  and  every  pound  over  the  above  amount  is  charged 
for.  Hence,  unless  a  light  trunk  is  selected,  and  the  quantity  of  per- 
sonal effects  carefully  reduced  to  the  least  that  is  practicable,  the  ex- 
pense of  a  tour  in  Spain  will  be  appreciably  increased  by  the  item  of 
extra  baggage  alone.  Baggage  of  all  kinds  is  registered,  and  a  receipt 
given  by  which  it  may  be  identified  at  the  point  of  destination.  It  is 
important,  however,  to  get  to  the  station  at  least  half  an  hour  before 
the  time  for  leaving,  since  this  process  of  weighing  and  registering, 
like  that  of  selling  or  stamping  tickets,  is  conducted  with  extreme  de- 
liberation, and  cannot  be  hastened  in  any  way.  On  diligence  routes 
the  allowance  for  baggage  is  only  forty-four  pounds  (twenty  kilograms). 
A  good  precaution,  in  order  to  guard  against  unfair  weighing,  is  to  get 
one's  trunk  or  trunks  properly  weighed  before  starting,  and  keep  a 
memorandum  of  the  result. 

Tickets,  etc. — It  is  unadvisable  to  travel  in  any  but  first-class  car- 
riages on  the  Spanish  railroads  ;  and  the  fare  for  these  is  somewhat  high. 
But  a  very  great  saving  may  be  made,  if  the  journey  be  begun  from 
Paris,  by  purchasing  billets  circulaires  (circular  or  round -trip  tickets), 


190  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

which — with  a  limitation  of  two  months,  as  to  time — enable  the  tourist 
to  go  from  Paris  either  to  San  Sebastian,  on  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  or  Bar- 
celona, on  the  Mediterranean,  and  from  either  of  those  points  to  take 
in  succession  all  the  cities  and  towns  which  it  is  worth  while  to  visit. 
A  ticket  of  this  kind  costs  only  about  ninety  dollars,  whereas  the  usual 
fare  from  Paris  to  Madrid  alone  is  nearly  or  quite  forty  dollars.  The 
billets  circulaires  may  be  obtained  at  a  certain  central  ticket-office  in 
the  Rue  St.  Honore,  at  Paris,  to  which  the  inquirer  at  either  of  the 
great  Southern  railroads  —  that  is,  the  Paris-Lyons  and  the  Orleans 
lines — will  be  directed.  The  list  of  places  at  which  one  is  permitted 
to  stop,  on  this  round -trip  system,  is  very  extensive,  and  a  coupon 
for  each  part  of  the  route  is  provided.  It  must  be  observed,  however, 
that  when  once  the  trip  is  begun  the  holder  cannot  return  upon  his 
traces,  unless  a  coupon  for  that  purpose  be  included,  without  paying 
the  regular  fare.  He  must  continue  in  the  general  direction  taken  at 
the  start — entering  Spain  at  one  of  its  northern  corners,  and  coming 
out  at  the  opposite  northern  corner,  after  having  described  a  sort  of 
elliptical  course  through  the  various  points  to  be  visited.  And  this  is, 
in  fact,  the  most  convenient  course  to  take.  It  is  also  prescribed  that 
at  the  first  frontier  station,  and  at  every  station  from  which  the  holder 
afterward  starts,  he  shall  show  the  ticket  and  have  it  stamped.  Occa- 
sionally, conductors  on  the  trains  displayed  a  tendency  to  make  us  pay 
something  additional;  but  this  was  merely  an  attempt  at  imposition, 
and  we  always  refused  to  comply.  Should  the  holder  of  one  of  these 
tickets  have  a  similar  experience,  and  be  unable  to  make  the  conductor 
comprehend,  the  best  thing  to  do  is  quietly  to  persist  in  not  paying, 
and,  if  necessary,  have  the  proper  explanation  made  at  the  end  of  the 
day's  trip. 

Journeys  by  steamer  are  not  included  in  this  arrangement;  but  we 
got  our  steamer  tickets  at  Malaga  remarkably  cheap,  and  in  the  follow- 
ing manner:  Two  boats  of  rival  lines  were  to  start  in  the  same  direc- 
tion on  the  same  day,  and  the  intrepreter,  or  valet  de place,  attached  to 
our  fonda,  volunteered  to  take  advantage  of  this  circumstance  by  play- 
ing one  company  off  against  the  other,  and  thus  beating  them  down 
from  the  regular  price.  So  he  summoned  a  dim-eyed  and  dilapidated 
man,  whilom  of  the  mariners'  calling,  to  act  as  an  intermediary.  This 
personage  was  to  go  to  the  office  of  the  boat  on  which  we  wanted  to 
embark,  and  tell  them  that  we  thought  of  sailing  by  the  other  line 
(which  had,  in  fact,  been  the  case),  but  that  if  we  could  obtain  passage 
at  a  price  that  he  named,  we  would  take  their  steamer;  in  short,  that 


HINTS   TO   TRAVELLERS.  191 

here  was  a  fine  chance  of  capturing  two  passengers  from  the  opposition. 
The  sum  which  we  handed  to  our  dim-eyed  emissary  was  seventy-five 
francs  ;  but,  while  he  was  absent  upon  his  errand  of  diplomacy,  the  in- 
terpreter figured  out  that  we  ought  to  have  given  him  eighteen  more, 
and  we  quite  commiserated  the  poor  negotiator  for  having  gone  off 
with  an  insufficient  supply  of  cash.  Imagine  our  astonishment  when  he- 
returned  and,  instead  of  asking  for  the  additional  amount  which  we  had 
counted  out  all  ready  for  him,  laid  before  us  a  shining  gold  piece  of 
twenty-five  francs  which  he  had  not  expended !  Deciding  to  improve 
upon  his  instructions,  he  had  paid  only  fifty  francs  for  the  two  passages. 
We  certainly  were  amazed,  but  the  interpreter  was  still  more  so  ;  for  he 
had  evidently  expected  his  colleague  to  say  nothing  about  having  saved 
the  twenty-five  francs,  but  to  pocket  that  and  eighteen  besides  for  their 
joint  credit  (or  discredit)  account.  He  controlled  his  emotions  by  a 
heroic  effort ;  but  the  complicated  play  of  stupefaction  at  his  agent's 
honesty,  of  bitter  chagrin  at  the  loss  involved,  and  of  pretended  delight 
at  our  remarkable  success,  was  highly  interesting  to  witness.  I  have 
always  regretted  that  some  old  Italian  medallist  could  not  have  been 
at  hand  to  mould  the  exquisite  conflict  of  expression  which  his  face 
presented  at  that  moment,  and  render  it  permanent  in  a  bronze  bass- 
relief.  As  it  was,  we  gave  each  man  a  bonus  of  five  francs,  and  then 
had  paid  for  our  tickets  only  about  half  the  established  rate. 

Personal  Safety. — Risk  of  bodily  peril  from  the  attacks  of  bandits,  on 
the  accustomed  lines  of  travel  in  Spain,  need  no  longer  be  feared.  The 
formidable  pillagers  who  once  gathered  toll  along  all  the  highways  and 
by-ways  have  been  suppressed  by  the  Civil  Guards,  or  military  police, 
a  very  trustworthy  and  thorough  organization,  which  really  seems  to 
be  the  most  (and  is,  perhaps,  the  sole)  efficient  thing  about  the  gov- 
ernment of  the  kingdom.  Of  these  Guards  there  are  now  twenty  thou- 
sand foot  and  five  thousand  horse  distributed  throughout  the  country, 
keeping  it  constantly  under  patrol,  in  companies,  squads  and  pairs, 
never  appearing  singly;  and  where  there  are  only  two  of  them,  they 
walk  twelve  paces  apart  on  lonely  roads,  to  avoid  simultaneous  surprise. 
They  are  armed  with  rifles,  swords,  and  revolvers,  and  are  drawn  from 
the  pick  of  the  royal  army.  Some  time  since  there  occurred  a  case  in 
which  two  of  these  men  murdered  a  traveller  in  a  solitary  place  for 
the  sake  of  a  few  thousand  francs  he  was  known  to  have  with  him  ; 
but  the  crime  was  witnessed  by  a  shepherd  lad  in  concealment,  and 
they  were  swiftly  brought  to  trial  and  executed.  This  instance  is  so 
exceptional  as  to  make  it  almost  an  injustice  even  to  mention  it ;  for, 


192  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

as  a  rule,  perfect  dependence  may  be  placed  on  the  Guards,  who  are 
governed  by  military  law  and  possess  a  great  esprit  de  corps.  A  strong 
group  of  them  is  posted  in  every  city  ;  at  every  railroad  station,  no 
matter  how  small,  there  are  two  members  of  the  force  on  duty,  and 
two  more  usually  accompany  each  train.  The  result  of  all  these  pre- 
cautions is  that  one  may  take  his  seat  in  a  Spanish  railroad-carriage 
absolutely  with  less  fear  of  robbery  or  violence  than  he  might  reason- 
ably feel  in  England  or  America.  The  only  instance  of  banditti  pillag- 
ing a  railroad-train  that  is  known  to  have  occurred  while  I  was  in  Spain, 
was  that  of  the  James  brothers  in  Missouri,  whose  outrages  upon  trav- 
ellers, in  our  peaceful  and  fortunate  Republic,  were  reported  to  us  by 
cable,  while  we  were  struggling  through  the  imaginary  perils  of  a  per- 
fect police  system  in  a  country  that  knows  not  the  subtleties  of  Ameri- 
can institutions.  And,  while  we  were  thus  proceeding  upon  our  way, 
an  atrocious  murder  was  committed  in  a  carriage  of  the  London  and 
Brighton  Railway,  which  was  not  the  first  of  its  kind  to  set  the  English 
public  shivering  with  dread  and  horror. 

Even  the  diligence  now  appears  to  be  as  safe  as  the  rail-carriage. 
But  it  should  be  clearly  understood  that,  when  one  goes  off  the  beaten 
track  and  attempts  horseback  journeys,  he  exposes  himself  to  quite 
other  conditions,  which  it  is  absurd  to  expect  the  police  to  control. 
An  acquaintance  tells  me  that  he  has  made  excursions  of  some  length 
in  the  saddle,  in  Spain,  meeting  nothing  but  courtesy  and  good-will ; 
but  he  took  care  to  have  his  pistol-holsters  well  filled  and  in  plain 
sight.  To  travel  on  horseback  without  an  armed  and  trusty  native 
guide  (who  should  be  well  paid,  and  treated  with  tact  and  cordiality) 
is  certainly  not  the  most  prudent  thing  that  can  be  done  ;  but  solitary 
pedestrianism  is  mere  foolhardiness.  A  young  French  journalist  of 
promise,  known  to  be  of  good  habits,  had  been  loitering  alone  about 
Pamplona  a  short  time  before  the  date  of  my  trip,  and  was  one  morn- 
ing found  murdered  outside  of  the  walls.  While  I  was  in  the  South, 
too,  as  I  afterward  learned,  an  Englishman,  who  was  concluding  a  brief 
foot -tour  in  the  North,  attempted  to  make  his  way  in  the  evening 
from  San  Sebastian  to  Irun,  on  the  frontier:  he  was  captured  by  ban- 
dits, kept  imprisoned  for  a  week  in  a  lonely  hut,  and  doubtless  narrow- 
ly missed  coming  to  his  death.  His  own  account  of  his  escape  gives 
a  vivid  idea  of  the  treatment  that  may  be  expected  from  the  rural 
population  by  anybody  who  gets  into  a  similar  predicament. 

"  I  resolved,"  he  says,  "  to  strive  for  liberty.  Having  worked  out 
a  stone,  which   I  found   rather  loose  in  the  wall   near  me,  and  having 


HINTS   TO   TRAVELLERS.  193 

taken  advantage  of  the  darkness  of  my  corner,  I  gnawed  asunder  the 
cord  that  bound  me.  I  made  for  the  door,  which  opened  into  the 
other  apartment,  and  there  being  but  one  guard  left  over  me  —  the 
others  being  off  on  some  expedition — 1  watched  for  an  opportunity. 
Presently  it  was  afforded  me.  As  the  fellow  sat  with  his  back  toward 
me,  resting  his  head  upon  his  hands,  I  stole  forward,  holding  my  stone 
in  readiness,  and  with  one  blow  laid  him  on  the  floor.  Then,  snatching 
up  a  knife  from  the  table,  I  ran  out,  and  after  wandering  among  the 
mountains  most  of  the  night  found  myself  at  daybreak  on  the  high- 
way, my  feet  cut  with  the  stones  and  my  strength  gone.  I  fainted. 
On  coming  round  I  attempted  in  vain  to  rise,  when,  two  men  coming 
along  with  a  bullock-cart,  I  asked  for  help.  All  they  did  was  to  prod 
me  with  their  goads  and  march  on.  The  laborers  were  now  returning 
to  their  work  in  the  fields,  and  seeing  my  attempt  to  regain  my  feet, 
several  of  them  pelted  me  with  clods.  I  had  little  strength  left,  but 
at  last  I  managed  to  get  on  my  feet,  and  having  rested  a  while  to 
regain  my  strength,  I  staggered  along  to  the  town  and  waited  upon 
the  English  vice-consul,  who  kindly  provided  me  with  food  and  clothes, 
after  which  I  accompanied  him  before  the  governor  of  the  province, 
to  make  my  statement."  The  Spanish  Government  do  not  acknowl- 
edge responsibility  for  proceedings  of  this  kind  on  the  part  of  their 
people ;  hence  it  is  doubtful  whether  in  such  a  case  the  victim,  after 
all  his  peril  and  suffering,  can  even  recover  the  value  of  what  has  been 
stolen  from  him.  But  it  is  perfectly,  easy  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of 
such  adventures. 

In  the  Hotel  de  los  Siete  Suelos,  at  Granada,  it  is  true  that  the 
night-porter  used  to  strap  around  his  meagre  waist,  when  he  went  on 
duty,  a  great  swashbuckler's  sword,  as  if  some  bloody  nocturnal  incur- 
sion were  impending.  But  whatever  the  danger  was  that  threatened, 
it  never  befell :  the  door  of  the  hotel  always  remained  wide  open,  and 
our  bellicose  porter  regularly  went  to  sleep  soundly  on  a  bench  beside 
it,  with  his  weapon  dangling  ingloriously  over  his  legs.  No  one  ever 
seemed  to  think  of  using  keys  for  their  hotel  rooms  except  in  Madrid; 
and  so  far  as  any  likelihood  of  theft  was  concerned,  this  confidence 
seemed  to  be  well  justified.  Many  articles  that  might  have  roused  the 
cupidity  of  unambitious  thieves,  and  could  easily  have  been  taken, 
were  left  by  my  companion  and  myself  lying  about  our  unlocked  apart- 
ments, but  we  sustained  no  loss. 

Language. — One  cannot  travel  to  the  best  advantage  in  Spain  with- 
out having  at  least  a  moderate  knowledge  of  French;  or,  still  better, 

13 


191  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

of  Spanish.  Railroad  employes,  customs  officers,  guards,  and  inn- 
keepers there,  as  a  rule,  understand  only  their  native  tongue.  Now 
and  then  one  will  be  found  who  has  command  of  a  very  few  French 
words;  but  this  is  quite  the  exception,  and  even  when  it  occurs,  is  not 
of  much  use.  At  the  hotels  in  all  places  frequented  by  foreigners  there 
are  interpreters,  who  conduct  transactions  between  traveller  and  land- 
lord, and  act  as  guides  to  places  of  public  interest.  For  services  of 
this  kind  they  must  be  paid  seven  or  eight  francs  a  day,  certainly  not 
more,  and  in  the  smaller  towns  less  will  suffice.  These  interpreters 
always  speak  a  little  French  ;  but  their  English  is  a  decidedly  variable 
quantity.  Of  course,  people  constantly  make  their  way  through  the 
kingdom  on  the  resources  of  English  alone  ;  but  it  is  obvious  that  in 
so  doing  they  must  miss  a  great  many  opportunities  for  curious  or 
instructive  observation  ;  and  even  in  viewing  the  regulation  sights  the 
want  of  an  easy  medium  of  communication  will  often  cause  interesting 
details  to  be  omitted.  The  possibility  of  employing  a  courier  for  the 
whole  journey  remains  open  ;  but  that  is  a  very  expensive  expedient, 
and  greatly  hampers  one's  freedom.  Enough  Spanish  for  the  ordinary 
needs  of  the  way  can  be  learned  in  a  month's  study,  by  any  one  who 
has  an  aptitude  for  languages.  Italian  will  by  no  means  take  the  place 
of  it,  although  some  acquaintance  with  that  language  may  facilitate  the 
study  of  Spanish  ;  the  fact  being  kept  in  mind,  however,  that  the  gut- 
tural character  of  Spanish  is  quite  alien  to  the  genius  of  Italian  speech, 
and  comes  more  naturally  to  one  who  knows  German.  If  the  tourist 
have  time  enough  at  his  disposal,  it  is  well  to  take  quarters  somewhere 
in  a  casa  de  huespedes,  or  boarding-house,  for  two  or  three  weeks,  in 
order  to  become  familiar  with  the  vernacular. 

Manners. — There  is  a  superstition  that,  if  you  will  only  keep  taking 
off  your  hat  and  presenting  complimentary  cigars,  you  will  meet  with 
marvels  of  courteous  response,  and  accomplish  nearly  everything  you 
want  to,  in  Spain.  But  the  voyager  who  relies  implicitly  on  this  at- 
tractive theory  will  often  suffer  disappointment.  It  will  do  no  harm 
for  him  to  cool  his  brow  by  a  free  indulgence  in  cap-doffing;  and  to 
make  presents  of  the  wretched  government  cigars  commonly  in  use  will 
be  found  a  pleasanter  task  than  smoking  them.  In  fact,  a  failure  to 
observe  these  solemn  ceremonies  places  him  in  the  position  of  a  churl- 
ish and  disfavored  person.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  polite  attentions 
of  this  kind  are  often  enough  met  by  a  lethargic  dignity  and  inertia 
that  are  far  from  gratifying.  Under  such  circumstances,  let  the  tourist 
remember  and  apply  that  prerequisite  which  I  began  with  mentioning 


HINTS    TO    TRAVELLERS.  195 

— good-humored  patience.  I  found  my  companions  by  the  rail  or  at 
tables  d'hote  sometimes  considerate  and  agreeable,  at  others  quite  the 
reverse,  and  disposed  to  ignore  the  existence  of  foreigners  as  something 
beneath  notice.  I  remember  once,  when  Velveteen  and  I,  obliged  to 
change  cars,  had  barely  time,  before  the  train  was  to  move  again,  to 
spring  into  a  compartment  pointed  out  by  the  conductor,  we  found 
there  a  well-dressed  but  gross  Spaniard,  of  the  wealthy  or  noble  class, 
who  had  had  the  section  marked  reservado,  and  the  curtains  carefully 
drawn.  He  sprang  up  from  his  nap  with  a  snort,  and  glared  angrily 
at  the  intruders,  then  burst  into  a  storm  of  rage  and  expostulation, 
most  of  which  he  discharged  out  of  window  at  the  conductor ;  but, 
finding  that  he  could  get  no  satisfaction  in  that  way,  he  subsided  into 
sullen  disdain,  paying  no  attention  to  my  "Buenas  dias"  ("Good-day"), 
and  making  his  dissatisfaction  prominent  by  impatient  gestures  and 
mutterings  from  time  to  time.  Owing  to  the  cost  of  baggage  trans- 
port, too,  the  natives  generally  carry  a  large  number  of  bundles,  bags, 
and  miniature  trunks  in  the  first-class  as  well  as  other  carriages — thus 
avoiding  any  fee— so  that  it  is  often  difficult  to  find  a  place  for  pack- 
ages, or  to  pass  in  and  out ;  and  those  who  thus  usurp  the  room  are 
apt  to  look  with  cynical  indifference  at  the  perplexities  of  the  latest 
comer,  whom  they  leave  to  shift  for  himself  as  well  as  he  can.  Never- 
theless, it  is  an  almost  universal  custom  that  any  one  who  produces 
a  lunch  during  the  ride,  offers  it  to  all  the  chance  company  in  the 
compartment  before  partaking  of  it  himself.  It  is  a  point  of  politeness 
not  to  accept  such  an  invitation,  but  it  must  be  extended  just  the  same 
as  if  this  were  not  the  case.  In  one  respect  the  Spaniards  are  extreme- 
ly polite — that  is,  in  showing  strangers  the  way  from  point  to  point. 
Frequently,  the  first  man  of  whom  you  inquire  how  to  get  back  to 
your  hotel,  or  elsewhere,  will  insist  upon  accompanying  you  the  whole 
distance,  in  order  to  make  sure  that  you  do  not  go  wrong;  and  this 
although  it  may  lie  entirely  out  of  his  own  direction.  Such  a  favor 
becomes  a  very  important  and  desirable  one  in  the  tortuous  streets  of 
most  Spanish  towns. 

Among  themselves  the  rule  is  that  all  ranks  and  classes  should  treat 
each  other  with  respect,  meeting  on  terms  of  a  grave  but  not  familiar 
equality:  hence  they  expect  a  similar  mode  of  address  from  strangers. 
When  all  the  conditions  are  fulfilled,  their  courtesy  is  of  the  magnifi- 
cent order — it  is  serious,  composed,  and  dignified.  Each  individual 
seems  to  be  living  on  a  pedestal ;  he  bows,  or  makes  a  flowing  gest- 
ure, and  you   get   an   exact   idea   what    it  would   be   like   to   have   the 


11)6  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

Apollo  Belvedere  receive  you  as  a  host,  or  a  Jupiter  Tonans  give  you 
an  amicable  salutation. 

As  in  America,  however,  it  is  usually  not  easy  to  get  information 
from  those  who  are  especially  hired  or  appointed  to  give  it.  The  per- 
sonal service  of  the  railroads,  with  rare  exceptions,  is  ungracious  and 
careless.  One  must  be  sure  to  ask  about  all  the  details  he  wants  to 
know,  for  these  are  seldom  volunteered.  There  is  a  main  office  (called 
Despacho  Central)  in  each  city,  where  you  may  buy  tickets,  order  an 
omnibus  for  the  station,  make  inquiries,  etc.  At  the  one  in  Toledo 
I  presented  our  circular  tickets  for  stamping,  on  departure,  and  asked 
several  questions  about  the  train,  which  showed  the  agent  plainly  what 
line  we  were  going  to  take.  When  we  reached  Castillejo,  I  found  that, 
in  spite  of  all  this,  he  had  allowed  us  to  take  a  road  on  which  the 
tickets  he  had  stamped  were  not  valid,  and  we  were  forced  to  pay  the 
whole  fare.  Neither  will  conductors  be  at  the  pains  to  shut  the  doors 
on  the  sides  of  the  cars ;  passengers  must  do  this  for  themselves.  I 
had  travelled  all  night  in  a  compartment,  and  in  the  morning,  wishing 
to  look  out,  I  leaned  against  the  door,  and  it  instantly  flew  open.  As  it 
was  on  the  off-side  when  I  got  in,  it  was  at  that  time  already  closed  ; 
but  I  now  discovered  that  the  handle  had  not  even  been  turned  to 
secure  it.  The  superficial  way  in  which  people  do  things  over  there 
is  seen  in  the  curious  little  fact  that,  from  the  time  of  leaving  France 
until  that  of  our  return,  we  could  nowhere  get  the  backs  of  our  boots 
blacked,  though  repeatedly  insisting  on  it ;  the  national  belief  being 
that  trousers  conceal  that  part  of  the  shoe,  and  labor  given  to  improv- 
ing its  appearance  would  therefore  be  thrown  away. 

The  demand  for  fees  is  in  general  not  so  systematic  or  impudent 
as  in  England  ;  but  when  one  intends  to  stay  more  than  a  day  in  a 
place,  better  attendance  will  be  obtained  by  bestowing  a  present  of  a 
franc  or  two,  although  service  is  included  in  the  regular  daily  rate  of 
the  hotel.  Finally,  the  Spaniard  with  whom  one  comes  most  in  con- 
tact as  a  tourist  is  peculiarly  averse  to  being  scolded  ;  so  that,  whatever 
the  provocation,  it  is  better  to  deal  with  him  softly. 

Hotels,  Diet,  etc. — The  Spanish  hotels  are  conducted  on  the  Ameri- 
can plan  ;  so  much  a  day  being  paid  for  room,  fare,  light,  heat,  and 
service.  This  sum  ranges  commonly  from  $i  50  to  $2  00  a  head,  ex- 
cept where  the  very  best  rooms  are  supplied.  The  foreigner,  of  course, 
pays  a  good  deal  more  than  the  native,  but  it  is  impossible  for  him  to 
avoid  that.  Sometimes  coffee  after  dinner  is  included  in  this  price,  but 
coffee  after  the  mid-day  breakfast  is  charged  as  an  extra ;  and  so  are 


HINTS    TO    TRAVELLERS.  107 

all  wines  except  the  ordinary  red  or  white  Val  de  Pefias,  which  are 
supplied  with  both  meals.  Nothing  is  furnished  before  the  breakfast 
hour  excepting  a  cup  of  chocolate,  some  bread,  and,  possibly,  butter. 
One  should  always  see  his  rooms  before  engaging  them,  and  also  be 
particular  to  ask  whether  the  price  named  includes  everything,  other- 
wise additional  items  will  be  foisted  upon  him  when  the  bill  is  settled. 
Confusion  in  the  account  may  be  avoided  by  paying  for  all  extras  at 
the  moment  of  obtaining  them. 

Those  who  are  unaccustomed  to  the  light  provend  furnished  for 
the  morning  will  do  well  to  carry  a  stock  of  beef-extract,  or  something 
of  the  kind.  Cow's  milk  is  difficult  to  get,  and  such  a  thing  as  a  boiled 
egg  with  the  chocolate  is  well-nigh  unheard  of.  The  national  beverage 
is  the  safest:  warm  chocolate,  not  very  sweet,  and  so  thick  that  it  will 
almost  hold  the  spoon  upright.  Coffee  in  the  morning  does  not  have 
the  same  nutritive  force  ;  indeed,  quite  otherwise  than  in  France  and 
Germany,  it  appears  to  exert  in  this  climate  an  injurious  effect  if  drunk 
early  in  the  day — at  least,  a  comparison  of  notes  shows  it  to  be  so  in 
summer.  Rather  more  attention  should  be  given  to  diet  in  Spain  than 
in  the  countries  above  named,  or  in  England  and  Italy,  owing  to  pe- 
culiarities of  the  climate  and  the  cookery.  Whoever  has  not  a  hardy 
digestion  runs  some  danger  of  disturbance  from  the  all  but  universal 
use  of  olive-oil  in  cooking ;  but,  with  this  exception,  the  tendency  is 
more  and  more  toward  the  adoption  of  a  French  cuisine  in  the  best 
hotels  of  the  larger  cities,  and  various  good,  palatable  dishes  are  to 
be  had  in  them.  The  native  wines  are  unadulterated,  but  strong  and 
heavy.  Owing  to  something  in  their  composition,  or  to  the  unpleasant 
taste  imparted  by  the  pig-skins,  they  are  to  some  persons  almost  poi- 
sonous ;  so  that  a  degree  of  caution  is  necessary  in  using  them.  Water 
has  the  reputation  of  being  especially  pure  in  all  parts  of  the  kingdom, 
and  of  exercising  a  beneficial  influence  on  some  forms  of  malady.  It 
certainly  is  delicious  to  drink. 

There  is  much  greater  cleanliness  in  the  hotels,  taking  them  all  in 
all,  than  I  had  expected  ;  but  the  want  of  proper  sanitary  provision, 
omitting  the  solitary  case  of  the  Fonda  Suizo  at  Cordova,  where  every- 
thing was  perfect  in  this  respect,  leads  to  a  state  of  things  which  may 
be  described  in  a  word  as  Oriental — that  is,  barbarous  in  the  extreme, 
and  scarcely  endurable.  On  this  point  professional  guide-writers  are 
strangely  silent.  A  wise  precaution  is  to  carry  disinfectants.  A  small 
medicine-case,  by-the-way,  might  with  advantage  be  included  in  the 
equipment  proper  for  travel  in  the  Peninsula. 


198  SPANISH  VISTAS. 

We  touched  the  nadir  of  dirt  and  unsavoriness,  as  you  may  say,  in 
our  first  night  at  the  Fonda  del  Norte,  in  Burgos;  and  there  the  maid 
who  ushered  me  to  my  room  warned  me,  as  she  retreated,  to  be  care- 
ful about  keeping  the  doors  of  the  anteroom  closed  because,  as  she 
said,  "  There  are  many  rats,  and  if  the  doors  are  open  they  run  in  here." 
But  luckily  the  rest  of  our  experience  was  an  agreeable  decline  from 
this  early  climax.  There  is  another  hotel  at  Burgos,  the  Raffaele, 
which,  as  we  learned  too  late,  is — in  complete  contradiction  of  the  guide- 
books— clean  and  pleasant.  On  the  practical  side,  that  voyager  will 
achieve  success  who  plans  his  route  in  Spain  so  as  to  evade  the  Fonda 
del  Norte  at  Burgos,  which  is  the  stronghold  of  dirt,  and  the  Hotel 
de  Paris  at  Madrid,  which  takes  the  palm  for  extortion.  Naturally,  in 
exploring  minor  towns  or  villages,  one  must  be  prepared  to  face  a  good 
deal  of  discomfort,  since  he  must  seek  shelter  at  a  posada  or  venta, 
where  donkeys  and  other  domestic  beasts  are  kept  under  one  roof  with 
the  wayfarer,  and  perhaps  in  close  proximity  to  his  bed  and  board. 
But  among  the  inns  of  modern  type  he  will  get  on  fairly  well  without 
having  to  call  out  any  very  great  fortitude. 

Expense  of  Travel. — From  what  has  been  said  about  circular  tickets 
and  hotel  prices,  some  notion  can  be  formed  as  to  the  general  cost  of 
a  Spanish  expedition.  Housing  and  transportation  should  not  be 
reckoned  at  less  than  six  dollars  a  day;  and  allowance  must  next  be 
made  for  guides,  carriages,  admission  fees,  and  so  on.  Altogether,  ten 
dollars  a  day  may  be  considered  sufficient  to  cover  the  strictly  neces- 
sary outlay,  if  the  journey  be  conducted  in  a  comfortable  manner;  but 
it  is  safer  to  assume  one  hundred  dollars  a  week  as  the  probable  ex- 
pense for  one  person,  and  this  will  leave  a  margin  for  the  purchase  of 
characteristic  articles  here  and  there — a  piece  of  lace,  a  little  pottery, 
knives,  cheap  fans,  and  so  on.  This  estimate  is  made  on  the  basis  of 
first-class  places  en  route,  and  of  stops  at  the  best  hotels.  It  could  be 
materially  reduced  by  choosing  second-class  hotels,  which  is  by  no 
means  advisable  when  ladies  are  of  the  party ;  and,  even  with  the  bet- 
ter accommodation,  if  small  rooms  be  selected  and  a  careful  economy 
exercised  in  other  directions,  sixty  dollars  a  week  might  be  made  to 
do.  To  dispense  with  the  aid  of  the  local  guides  is  no  saving,  if  the 
design  be  to  move  rapidly ;  because,  without  such  assistance,  more 
time  has  to  be  spent  in  getting  at  a  given  number  of  objects. 

Mail-service,  Telegrams,  Books,  etc. — The  mails  are  conveyed  with 
promptness  and  safety,  it  appears ;  although  at  Malaga  I  observed  a 
large  padlocked  and  green-painted  chest  with  a  narrow  aperture  in  it, 


HINTS    TO    TRAVELLERS.  199 

lying  on  the  sidewalk  in  no  particular  custody,  and  learned  that  it  was 
a  convenient  movable  post-office.  Furthermore,  it  is  bewildering  to 
find,  after  painfully  travelling  to  the  genuine  post-office  (the  Corrto), 
that  you  cannot  buy  any  stamps  there.  These  are  kept  on  sale  only 
at  the  shops  of  tobacconists,  whose  trade  likewise  makes  them  agents 
of  the  governmental  monopoly  in  cigars,  cigarettes,  etc.  The  tobac- 
conists' stores  bear  the  sign  Estanco  (stamp  -  shop) ;  and,  after  one  is 
accustomed  to  the  plan,  it  becomes  really  more  convenient  to  obtain 
one's  postage  from  them.  To  weigh  large  envelopes  or  packages,  how- 
ever, the  sender  must  resort  to  the  Corrc'o.  International  postal  cards 
may  be  had,  which  are  good  between  Spain  and  France,  and  other 
rates  are  not  high.  Those  who  intend  to  pass  rapidly  from  point  to 
point  will  do  well  to  have  all  correspondence  directed  to  the  care  of 
the  American  consul  or  vice-consul — or,  if  in  Madrid,  to  the  legation, 
there.  There  is  no  difficulty  about  letters  addressed  in  English,  pror 
vided  the  writing  be  plain.  At  the  first  city  which  he  touches  the 
tourist  should  ascertain  from  the  representative  of  his  nationality  the- 
names  of  all  representatives  in  the  other  places  he  expects  to  go  to, 
so  that  he  can  forward  the  precise  address  for  each  place,  and  himself 
be  informed  just  where  to  apply  for  letters  or  counsel.  In  cases  where 
there  is  no  time  to  take  these  measures,  the  plaii)  may  be  followed  of 
having  letters  addressed  poste  rcstante  at  the  various  points ;  but  they 
must  then  be  called  for  at  the  post-office,  and  at  each  town  orders 
should  be  left  with  the  postmaster  to  forward  to  some  farther  objec-. 
tive  point  any  mail -matter  expected  at  that  town,  but  not  received 
there.  In  requesting  any  service  of  this  kind  from  consuls,  do  not 
forget  to  leave  with  them  a  proper  amount  of  postage. 

Telegrams  may  be  sent  from  all  large  places,  in  English,  at  rates 
about  the  same  as  those  which  prevail  elsewhere  ;  but  if  it  is  intended 
to  send  many  messages  by  wire,  a  simple  code  ought  to  be  arranged 
with  correspondents  beforehand,  to  save  expense.  Telegrams  have  to 
be  written  very  carefully,  too  ;  I  attempted  to  send  one  from  Granada, 
but  made  a  slight  correction  in  one  word — a  fact  which  caused  it  to  be 
brought  all  the  way  back  from  the  city  to  my  hotel  on  the  Alhambra 
hill,  with  an  imperative  request  that  it  should  be  rewritten  and  re-_ 
turned  free  from  the  least  scratch  or  blot. 

Whatever  books  you  may  wish  to  consult  on  the  journey  should  be 
provided  at  the  very  start,  in  America,  London,  or  Paris:  ten  to  one 
you  will  not  find  them  in  Spain.  It  is  pleasant,  for  example,  to  refer 
on  the  spot  to  an  English  version  of  "  Don  Quixote,"  or  the  French 


200  SPANISH    VIS  IAS. 

"Gil  Bias;"  or  Prescott's  "Ferdinand  and  Isabella,"  and  the  "Colum- 
bus," the  "Conquest  of  Granada,"  and  "Tales  of  the  Alhambra,"  by 
Irving.  Theophile  Gautier's  "Voyage  en  Espagne "  is  another  very 
delightful  hand-mirror  in  which  to  see  your  own  observations  reflected. 
But  none  of  these  are  obtainable  except,  possibly,  in  Madrid  and  Bar- 
celona ;  and  even  there  it  is  not  certain  that  they  will  be  found.  These 
two  cities  are  the  head-quarters,  however,  for  such  Spanish  books  as 
may  be  required. 

Bankers  and  Money. — Little  need  be  said  on  this  point,  beyond  sug- 
gesting the  usual  circular  letter  of  credit,  except  to  forewarn  all  per- 
sons concerned  that  they  will  be  charged  and  must  submit  to  very 
heavy  commissions  and  exchange  at  the  houses  where  their  letters  en- 
title them  to  draw.  Another  particular  which  it  is  essential  to  note  is 
the  uncertain  currency  of  certain  silver  coinage  in  Spain,  and  the  prev- 
alence of  counterfeit  pieces.  Strangers  must  fight  shy  of  any  kind  of 
peseta  (equivalent  to  a  franc)  except  the  recent  and  regulation  ones, 
though  there  are  many  dating  from  earlier  reigns  than  Alfonso's,  which 
will  pass  anywhere.  The  small  money  of  one  province  frequently  will 
not  be  received  in  another ;  and  it  happened  to  me  to  preserve  with 
great  care  a  Barcelona  peseta,  which  I  found  unavailable  everywhere 
else,  and  had  accepted  by  an  oversight  in  Sevilla,  in  the  confident  hope 
that  I  could  get  rid  of  it  at  Barcelona  itself ;  but  I  discovered  that 
that  was  exactly  the  place  where  they  treated  it  with  the  most  con- 
tempt. Hence  it  is  best,  before  leaving  one  province  for  another,  to 
convert  your  change  into  gold  pieces  of  twenty-five  pesetas  worth,  or 
into  silver  dollars  (which  are  called  duros),  worth  five  pesetas  each. 

Here,  however,  let  it  be  noted  that  the  one  infallible  course  to  pre- 
vent deception  is  to  ring  on  some  solid  surface  of  wood  or  stone  every 
gold  or  silver  coin  you  receive  at  the  hotel,  the  banker's,  or  anywhere 
else.  If  it  give  a  flat  sound,  no  matter  what  its  real  value  may  be, 
great  trouble  will  be  had  in  passing  it ;  hence,  you  must  in  that  case 
refuse  to  take  it.  For  example,  a  five-dollar  piece  was  given  me  which 
■failed  to  yield  the  true  sound  ;  and  though  it  was  perfectly  good,  hav- 
ing merely  become  cracked,  I  could  do  nothing  with  it,  even  at  the 
Madrid  banker's;  finally  getting  its  value  in  silver,  by  a  mere  chance, 
from  a  professional  money-changer  of  more  than  common  enlighten- 
ment. 

Never  give  a  gold  piece  to  a  waiter  or  any  one  else  to  be  changed, 
unless  the  transaction  is  effected  under  your  own  eye;  for,  if  he  car- 
ries the  coin  away  out  of  your  sight,  a  substitution  will  very  likely  be 


HINTS    TO    TRAVELLERS.  201 

made,  and  you  cannot  then  get  rid  of  the  uncurrent  money  which  will 
be  forced  upon  you.  The  precaution  of  ringing  or  sounding  money, 
on  receipt,  is  so  general  that  no  one  need  feel  any  hesitation  at  prac- 
tising it,  however  it  may  seem  to  reflect  upon  the  person  who  has 
proffered  the  coin.  Spanish  gold  pieces  in  small  quantity  may  with 
advantage  be  bought  in  Paris.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  well  to  carry 
more  or  less  Napoleons  with  you,  because  French  gold  is  trusted,  and 
passes  with  slight  discount.  The  traveller  should  be  provided  with 
both  kinds.     Always  and  persistently  refuse  Spanish  paper. 

Buying  Bric-a-brac,  Lace,  etc. — Those  who  wish  to  purchase  charac- 
teristic products  of  the  country,  ancient  or  modern,  need  not  fear  that 
opportunity  will  be  wanting ;  but  the  most  obvious  means  are  not 
always  the  best.  The  interpreters  or  guides  attached  to  hotels  are 
in  most  places  only  too  anxious  to  aid  in  this  sort  of  enterprise ; 
but  it  is  because  they  wish  to  dispose  of  some  private  stock  of  their 
own,  for  which  they  will  surely  demand  double  price.  By  courteous 
but  decided  treatment  they  may  be  led  to  make  most  astonishing 
reductions  from  their  first  demand  ;  and  this  channel  is  accordingly, 
if  properly  handled,  often  as  good  as  any  other.  Guides  in  Cordova 
will  offer  an  assortment  of  old  hand-made  lace,  and  introduce  you  to 
the  silversmiths  who  there  manufacture  a  peculiarly  effective  sort  of 
filigree  in  ear-rings,  shawl-pins,  brooches,  and  other  forms.  Cordova  is 
the  best  place  in  which  to  get  this  kind  of  ware ;  but  if  lace  be  the 
object  sought,  Sevilla  or  Barcelona  is  a  much  more  advantageous  mar- 
ket. Machine-made  lace,  which  is  now  the  favorite  kind  among  Span- 
ish ladies,  and  has  been  brought  to  a  high  degree  of  delicacy,  can  be 
obtained  in  the  greatest  variety  and  on  the  best  terms  at  Barcelona, 
where  it  is  made.  Many  foreigners,  however,  prefer  the  hand -made 
kind  ;  and  these  should  explore  Sevilla  in  search  of  what  they  wish,  for 
they  can  there  get  it  at  reasonable  prices.  In  this  connection  it  is  to 
be  premised  that  the  assistance  of  some  personal  acquaintance  among 
the  Spaniards  themselves,  if  it  can  be  had,  will  always  effect  a  consid- 
erable saving;  and,  when  time  can  be  allowed,  the  best  way  always  is 
to  make  inquiry  and  prowl  around  among  the  stores  for  one's  self. 
There  are  few  professed  antiquarian  and  bric-a-brac  salesrooms  out  of 
Madrid  ;  but  one  can  often  pick  up  what  he  wants  in  out-of-the-way 
places.  Perhaps  the  best  towns  in  which  to  buy  the  peculiar  gay- 
colored  and  ball -fringed  mantas,  or  mantles  of  the  country,  and  the 
equally  curious  alforjas  used  by  the  peasantry,  are  Granada  and  Va- 
lencia.    In  Toledo  there  is  a  very  peculiar  and  effective  sort  of  black- 


202  SPANISH    VISTAS. 

and-gray  felt  blanket,  with  brilliant  embroideries  ;  that  city,  like  the 
two  just  mentioned,  being  a  centre  of  textile  industry.  The  pur- 
chase of  costumes  in  actual  use,  from  the  peasants  themselves,  which 
is  something  that  artists  may  find  useful,  can  be  accomplished  after 
due  bargaining,  and  by  the  intervention  of  the  professional  inter- 
preter. 

The  pottery  and  porcelain  of  Spain  exhibit  a  great  variety  of  beau- 
tiful shapes,  many  of  them  doubtless  Moorish  in  their  origin  ;  and  some 
kinds  are  invested  with  a  bold,  peculiar  coloring,  dashed  on  somewhat 
in  the  Limoges  style,  but  very  characteristic  of  the  climate  and  land- 
scape in  which  they  are  produced.  The  abundance  of  unusual  and 
graceful  forms  constantly  suggests  the  idea  of  making  a  collection.  I 
shall  not  attempt  to  specify  the  localities  most  favorable  for  the  carry- 
ing out  of  this  idea ;  because,  so  far  as  my  own  observation  went,  there 
seemed  to  be  material  worth  investigating  almost  everywhere.  The 
common  unglazed  bottles  and  jars  made  and  used  by  the  peasantry  in 
in  the  South,  however,  are  especially  attractive,  and  are  met  with  only 
in  that  part  of  the  country.  They  are  likewise  nearly  as  cheap  as  the 
substance  from  which  they  are  made.  At  Granada,  too,  there  is  man- 
ufactured a  heavy  blue-and-white  glazed  ware,  turned  with  refined  and 
simple  contours,  of  honest  elegance.  Formerly  barbers'  basins  moulded 
on  the  Spanish  plan — that  is,  with  a  curved  piece  cut  out  at  one  side — 
were  made  of  porcelain  ;  and  these  may  still  sometimes  be  picked  up 
in  Madrid  junk-shops  or  antiquarian  lairs.  They  are  not  always  good 
specimens  of  decorative  art,  but  they  are  curious  and  effective.  Part 
of  an  extensive  collection  I  saw,  which  had  recently  been  made  by  an 
American  gentleman  ;  and  I  could  imagine  that,  when  hung  upon  the 
wall  by  his  distant  fireside  across  the  Atlantic,  they  would  form  an  in- 
teresting series  of  trophies — a  row  of  ceramic  scalps,  one  might  say, 
marking  the  fate  of  so  many  vanquished  dealers. 

Old  furniture,  heavy  with  carving  or  marvellously  inlaid  according 
to  traditions  of  the  Moors — monumental  pieces,  such  as  were  to  be  seen 
in  the  loan  collection  of  Spanish  Art  at  the  South  Kensington  in  1881, 
and  are  sparsely  imported  into  the  United  States — offers  larger  prizes 
to  those  who  search  and  pay.  Many  relics  of  ancient  costume,  dating 
from  the  period  of  courtly  splendor;  rich  fabrics;  embroideries;  sacer- 
dotal robes  and  disused  altar-cloths;  and  occasional  precious  metal- 
work,  may  farther  be  unearthed  in  the  bric-a-brac  shops.  With  due 
care  such  objects  will  often  be  obtained  at  moderate  cost.  But  it  is  to 
be  remembered  that  the  price  paid  on  the  spot  forms  only  one  item. 


HINTS   TO   TRAVELLERS.  203 

Transportation  to  the  final  shipping-point  and  the  ocean  freightage  are 
very  high  ;  amounting  in  the  case  of  cheap  articles  to  far  more  than  the 
original  outlay  for  their  purchase. 

Seasons  for  Travel. — A  question  of  very  great  moment  is,  what  time 
of  year  should  be  chosen  for  a  sojourn  in  Spain?  The  answer  to  it 
depends  entirely  upon  the  organization  of  the  person  asking,  and  his 
object  in  going.  For  a  simple  trip  in  search  of  novelty,  the  voyager 
being  of  good  constitution,  it  makes  little  difference.  From  the  first 
of  June  until  the  first  of  October  the  heat,  in  almost  any  spot  south 
of  the  Pyrenees,  will  be  found  severe.  From  the  first  of  October  until 
the  first  of  June,  severe,  cold,  treacherous  changing  winds,  snow,  and 
ice  will  be  encountered,  save  in  a  few  favored  localities  hereinafter  to 
be  named,  under  the  head  of  "  Climate  for  Health."  Of  the  two  ex- 
tremes, summer  is  perhaps  to  be  preferred  ;  because  the  voyager  at 
that  time  knows  precisely  what  he  has  got  to  prepare  for  and  can  meet 
it,  whereas  winter  is  a  more  variable  emergency.  A  person  of  good 
constitution,  understanding  how  to  take  care  of  himself  in  either  case, 
and  with  an  eye  to  local  habits  as  adapted  to  the  season,  may  go  at 
any  time.  Autumn  and  spring,  however,  are  obviously  the  ideal  sea- 
sons for  a  visit.  From  a  comparison  of  authorities,  and  from  my  own 
observation  of  a  part  of  the  summer,  I  should  advise  going  during  the 
period  from  October  I  to  December  I,  or  from  April  I  to  June  I.  A 
tour  involving  more  than  two  months'  time,  of  course,  must  pass  these 
limits.  For  hardy  and  judicious  travellers  there  is  no  objection  to  a 
sojourn  including  June  and  July;  although  it  must  be  said  that  sight- 
seeing at  the  South  during  these  months  is  more  in  the  nature  of  en- 
durance than  of  recreation.  I  encountered  no  serious  local  fever  or 
other  ailment  due  to  hot  weather,  excepting  a  kind  of  cholera  referred 
to  in  one  of  the  preceding  chapters,  called  el  minuto  (the  minute), 
at  Sevilla.  By  beginning  a  trip  at  the  southern  end  of  the  Peninsula 
and  gradually  working  along  northward  toward  France,  four  months 
from  March  i  or  April  I  could  be  utilized  without  any  unusual  dis- 
comfort. 

Routes.— The  topic  just  discussed  necessarily  has  a  good  deal  to  do 
with  the  selection  of  a  route,  which,  from  the  position  of  the  country, 
must  be  made  to  begin  from  the  North  or  from  the  South. 

Let  us  notice,  first,  the  general  lines  of  approach  from  different 
quarters. 

From  New  York  direct,  for  example,  one  may  sail  for  Cadiz  in 
steamers   of  the  Anchor  and   Guion   lines,  or  in  the  Florio  (Spanish) 


204  SPANISH   VISTAS. 

steamers,  which  last  I  have  heard  spoken  of  in  favorable  terms  by 
authority  presumably  good.  From  London  there  are  two  lines  of 
steamers :  one,  Messrs.  Hall's,  leaving  weekly  for  Lisbon,  Gibraltar, 
Malaga,  and  Cadiz ;  the  other,  Messrs.  MacAndrew's,  leaving  Lon- 
don three  times  a  week  for  Bilbao  and  the  principal  ports  on  the 
Mediterranean.  For  any  one  wishing  to  visit  Spain  alone,  these  form 
the  cheapest  and  nearest  means  of  reaching  the  country.  To  go  by 
steamer  from  London  is,  however,  very  obviously  a  slower  way  than 
to  take  the  rail  from  the  English  capital  to  Paris  and  thence  to  the 
frontier,  either  at  Irun  and  San  Sebastian,  or  at  Barcelona  by  way  of 
Marseilles  and  Perpignan.  So  that,  where  speed  alone  is  the  object, 
one  may  take  a  fast  steamer  from  New  York  to  Liverpool,  use  the 
rail  thence  to  London,  and  arrive  in  Burgos,  for  instance,  about  fifty 
hours  after  leaving  London.  The  through  train  from  Paris  for  Spain 
leaves  in  the  evening.  Voyagers  from  the  East  and  Italy,  design- 
ing to  pass  through  Spain  on  their  return  westward,  can  embark 
on  the  Peninsular  and  Oriental  steamers,  or  those  of  the  Messageries 
Imperiales. 

When  one  passes  through  France,  on  the  way,  it  is  possible  to  buy 
a  Continental  railroad  guide,  which  gives  all  the  trains  in  Spain  and 
France,  and  the  connection  of  one  system  with  the  other  across  the 
boundary.  This  is  to  be  recommended  as  an  exceedingly  useful  docu- 
ment. 

It  may  as  well  be  remarked  here  that  the  information  ordinarily 
given  in  books  about  the  coasting  steamers  from  one  port  to  another 
along  the  Mediterranean  coast  of  Spain  is  as  untrustworthy  as  it  is 
vague.  The  precise  date  of  departure  from  any  given  town  on  the 
coast  for  the  other  ports  to  the  north-east  or  south-west  is  not  very 
easy  to  ascertain,  except  in  the  town  itself.  One  or  another  steamer, 
however,  is  pretty  sure  to  sail  from  Cadiz,  Malaga,  Valencia,  and  Bar- 
celona two  or  three  times  a  week ;  so  that  one  can  scarcely  fail  of  what 
the  Germans  call  an  "  opportunity."  There  is  undoubtedly  a  differ- 
ence in  the  various  lines,  as  regards  comfort  and  swiftness  of  progress ; 
but  it  is  not  true,  as  the  guide-books  assert,  that  the  French  steamers 
alone  are  good,  and  that  the  Spanish  are  dirty  and  comfortless.  We 
personally  inspected  two  boats  in  the  harbor  of  Malaga  before  making 
choice  ;  one  was  French  and  the  other  Spanish,  and  we  found  the  lat- 
ter much  the  more  commodious  and  cleanly.  But,  then,  it  is  possible 
that  some  other  Spanish  line  than  the  one  we  selected  may  be  inferior 
to  some  still  other  French  line  which  we  did  not  see.     Everybody  can 


HINTS   TO   TRAVELLERS.  205 

satisfy  himself,  by  simply  viewing  whatever  steamers  happen  to  be 
on  hand  for  the  trip,  before  engaging  passage.  The  accommodations 
on  all  of  them  seem  to  be  of  a  kind  that  would  not  be  tolerated  for  a 
day  in  America ;  but  they  compare  well  with  those  of  the  best  boats 
on  the  English  Channel,  being  fairly  on  a  level  with  the  incomplete 
civilization  of  Europe  in  respect  of  convenience,  privacy,  and  hygiene. 
The  cabins  become  close  and  unwholesome  at  night,  and  few  state- 
rooms are  provided.  These  last  are  built  to  receive  from  four  to  six 
persons,  who  may  be  total  strangers  to  each  other;  hence,  any  one 
who  wishes  to  be  independent  of  chance  comers  must  betake  himself 
to  the  deck  at  night,  or  else  make  special  arrangements  to  secure  an 
entire  room  before  starting. 

Again,  on  the  railroads,  many  journeys  have  to  be  made  at  night ; 
and  it  is  seldom  that  one  can  secure  a  sleeping-coach.  On  much-trav- 
elled lines  these  are  usually  bespoken  a  week  in  advance.  Failing  to 
get  the  wagon-lit,  as  the  sleeping-car  is  called,  after  the  French  fashion, 
one  may  sometimes  engage  a  berlina,  which  is  simply  the  coupe  or  end 
compartment  of  a  car.  This,  being  made  to  seat  three  persons  instead 
of  six,  is  allowed  to  be  reserved.  It  costs  about  two  dollars  for  a  dis- 
tance of  one  hundred  miles. 

The  route  to  be  followed  in  any  particular  case  has,  in  the  nature 
of  things,  to  be  determined  by  the  purpose  and  circumstances  of  the 
tourist.  One  may  make  a  geological  and  mineralogical  tour,  inspecting 
the  mountains  and  the  mines  of  Spain,  and  find  his  hands  tolerably  full 
at  that ;  or,  one  may  wend  his  way  to  the  Peninsula  solely  to  study  the 
achievements  of  the  former  national  schools  of  painting  there,  in  which 
case  Sevilla  and  the  picture-gallery  at  Madrid  will  be  his  only  objective 
points — the  latter  chief  and  almost  inexhaustible.  The  architectural 
treasures  of  Spain  constitute  another  source  of  interest  sufficient  in 
itself  for  a  whole  journey  and  months  of  study.  But  those  who  go 
with  aims  of  this  sort  will  find  all  the  advice  they  need  in  guides  and 
special  works.  What  will  more  probably  be  sought  here  is  merely  an 
outline  for  the  wanderer  who  sets  out  to  obtain  general  views  and  im- 
pressions in  a  brief  space  of  time.  Him,  then,  I  advise,  if  the  season 
be  propitious,  to  enter  Spain  from  the  north,  pursue  in  the  main  a 
straight  line  to  the  southern  extremity;  and  then,  having  made  the 
excursion  to  Granada — which  in  the  present  state  of  the  railways  must 
be  a  digression  from  the  general  circuit — proceed  along  the  shores  of  the 
Mediterranean  toward  France  again.  In  this  case  his  trip  will  arrange 
itself  in  the  following  order: 


206 


SPANISH    VISTAS. 


Paris  to  San  Sebastian 2 

Thence  to  Pamplona.     Back  to  main  line. 

Burgos      3 

Valladolid 1 

Thence  to  Salamanca 2 

Back  to  main  line.     Avila 1 

Escorial,  and  drive  to  Segovia       ....  2 

Madrid S 

Or,  from  Avila  go  direct  to  Madrid,  and 
then  to  Escorial,  Segovia,  and  return. 
Alcala  de  Henares  (birthplace  of  Cervantes) 

may  be  reached  by  a  short  rail-trip  from 

Madrid  eastward I 

Aranjuez 1 

Toledo 2 

Cordova 2 

Sevilla 5 


Cadiz 

( ribraltar  (by  steamer) 
Malaga 


Ronda  (by  rail  and  diligence) 2 

Granada  4 

Return  to  Malaga I 

Cartagena  (steamer) 2 

Murcia  (rail) 1 

Elche  palm-groves  (diligence) 1 

Alicante  (diligence) 1 

Or,  diligence  and  rail  direct  to  Valencia      .  1 

Valencia  (drive  in  the  Huerta)       ....  2 

Zaragoza 2 

Manresa,  and  monastery  of  Monserrat    .     .  3 

Barcelona 3 

Gerona     1 

To  Marseilles 1 

"60 


The  preceding  estimate  includes  the  time  to  be  allowed  for  going 
from  place  to  place  ;  but,  as  will  be  seen,  the  total  includes  some  extra 
days  occurring  in  the  count  where  an  option  is  suggested.  To  accom- 
plish all  that  is  laid  down  here  in  two  months,  however,  would  be  very 
close  and  hard  work  ;  in  order  to  go  over  the  ground  comfortably,  an 
extra  week  or  two  should  be  allowed.  The  great  advantage  of  enter- 
ing the  kingdom  by  way  of  San  Sebastian  is  that  the  first  impression  of 
the  Pyrenees  is  much  finer  there  than  by  way  of  Perpignan  to  Gerona 
and  Barcelona.  One  also  plunges  immediately  into  the  heart  of  an- 
cient Spain  on  touching  Pamplona  and  Burgos ;  and  these  lead  in  the 
most  natural  and  direct  way  to  Valladolid  (the  old  capital  and  the 
place  where  "Don  Quixote"  was  written),  to  Salamanca,  Avila,  Se- 
govia, and  the  Escorial.  Furthermore,  after  Madrid  has  intervened 
between  North  and  South  with  its  mingling  of  past  and  present,  the 
succession  of  interest  follows  an  ascending  scale  through  Toledo,  Cor- 
dova, and  Sevilla,  culminating  at  Granada.  Next,  the  Mediterranean 
route  presents  itself  as  something  having  a  special  unity  of  its  own, 
with  a  recurrence  to  special  phases  of  antiquity  again  in  Zaragoza, 
Monserrat,  and  Gerona.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  we  begin  with  Barce- 
lona and  go  southward  before  coming  up  to  Madrid,  we  receive  a 
first  impression  less  striking  and  characteristic,  and  also  pluck  the 
most  ideal  flowers — Granada,  Sevilla,  Cordova — before  coming  to  Ma- 
drid. Taken  in  the  light  of  such  a  contrast,  Toledo,  Avila,  Burgos, 
and  the  rest  of  the  northern  places  will  seem  less  attractive  than  when 


HINTS    TO    TRAVELLERS.  207 

grouped  together  in  an  introductory  glimpse,  as  a  prelude  to  the  more 
poetic  South. 

Supposing,  however,  that  the  traveller  lands  at  once  in  Cadiz,  from 
the  deck  of  a  steamer,  he  must  put  all  this  fine  theory  aside,  and  make 
the  best  of  the  case.  His  programme  will  then  depend  on  whether 
he  proposes  to  end  by  going  into  France,  or  to  return  without  crossing 
the  Pyrenees.  In  the  latter  event,  he  might  do  well  to  follow  the  rail 
to  Sevilla,  Cordova,  Toledo,  and  Madrid  ;  then  visit  the  Escorial,  Avila, 
Segovia,  and  afterward  strike  off  abruptly  to  the  north-east,  through 
Zaragoza  and  Monserrat  to  Barcelona,  coming  down  the  coast  again 
either  by  rail  or  steamer  to  Valencia,  and  reserving  Granada  until  near 
the  end.  After  Granada,  a  return  to  Malaga  and  a  touch  at  Gibraltar 
would  deposit  him  exactly  where  he  started  from,  at  Cadiz. 

Should  he  wish  to  wind  up  in  France,  the  situation  is  more  com- 
plicated. He  must  then  take  Gibraltar  first,  come  back  to  Sevilla,  go 
to  Granada,  thence  to  Cordova  and  Toledo — omitting  Valencia  wholly, 
unless  he  be  willing  to  double  interminably  on  his  tracks — pass  from 
Toledo  to  Madrid,  and  then  decide  whether  he  will  go  north-westward 
through  Avila  and  Burgos,  north-eastward  through  Zaragoza  and  Bar- 
celona, or  attempt  to  embrace  both  routes  by  zigzagging  across  the 
widest  part  of  the  kingdom. 

There  remains,  finally,  the  alternative  of  starting  from  Cadiz,  visit- 
ing Sevilla  and  Granada,  and  then,  by  way  of  Cordova,  Toledo  and 
Madrid,  continuing  north  to  Valladolid,  Burgos,  and  the  French  fron- 
tier, without  troubling  the  eastern  half  of  the  country  at  all.  This 
route,  after  all,  includes  the  most  that  is  best  worth  seeing,  if  we  leave 
out  Zaragoza  and  Monserrat. 

Let  me  add  only  that  nobody  should  be  deterred,  by  the  schedule 
given  on  the  preceding  page,  from  making  a  shorter  visit  to  the  Pen- 
insula, if  it  come  within  his  range,  when  circumstances  grant  him  less 
time  than  is  there  allotted.  Even  in  three  weeks  a  general  tour  could 
be  accomplished,  allowing  several  days  at  Madrid  and  very  brief  pauses 
at  Avila,  the  Escorial,  Toledo,  Cordova,  Sevilla,  Granada,  and  Barcelona. 
So  rapid  a  flight,  nevertheless,  the  voyager  must  be  prepared  to  find, 
will  induce  a  harassing  sense  that  at  every  point  much  that  it  would 
be  desirable  to  see  has  been  passed  over.  But  even  an  outline  of  actual 
experience  is  sometimes  more  prized  than  a  complete  set  of  second- 
hand impressions. 

Furthermore,  a  single  week  would  suffice  the  traveller  who  found 
himself  on  the  borders  of  Spain,  to  make  an  excursion  which  he  could 


'20S  SPANISH   VISTAS. 

hardly  regret.  Thus  from  Biarritz  one  can,  in  that  space  of  time,  cross 
the  border  and  run  down  to  Madrid,  glance  rapidly  at  the  gallery  there, 
and  take  the  Escorial,  Avila,  or  Burgos— or  possibly  two  of  these — on 
the  return.  From  Marseilles  he  can  visit  Gerona,  Barcelona,  and  Mon- 
serrat.  Similarly,  touching  at  Cadiz,  he  can  go  to  Sevilla,  Cordova,  and 
Granada,  get  a  general  survey  of  those  places,  including  the  Alhambra 
and  two  of  the  most  beautiful  cathedrals  in  the  world,  and  return  to 
Cadiz  or  Malaga,  all  in  seven  or  eight  days.  Indeed,  one  who  has  it  in 
his  power  to  reach  Granada  and  spend  a  day  or  two  there,  without  at- 
tempting to  see  anything  else,  ought  not  to  forego  the  opportunity. 
The  sight  of  the  Alhambra  alone,  and  of  the  enchanting  landscape  that 
surrounds  it,  may  well  repay  the  loss  incurred  by  an  inability  to  make 
farther  explorations. 

All  these  details  in  regard  to  flying  trips  I  submit  with  due  knowl- 
edge that  whoever  profits  by  them,  at  the  same  time  that  he  admits 
himself  under  obligation  for  the  counsel,  will  perhaps  never  forgive 
himself  for  seeing  thus  much  and  no  more,  and  may  even  include  in 
this  unrelenting  mood  his  benevolent  adviser. 

Enough,  I  think,  has  now  been  said  to  furnish  a  basis  for  all  man- 
ner of  individual  modification.  The  large  anatomical  lines,  as  it  were, 
have  been  indicated  ;  and  on  these  each  tourist  may  construct  his  own 
ideal,  with  any  desired  curtailment  or  extension  of  time  to  be  con- 
sumed. 

Climate  for  Health. — The  resources  of  Spain  as  a  health  resort  are, 
in  general,  hardly  suspected,  much  less  widely  known ;  and  a  great 
deal  has  doubtless  yet  to  be  done  before  they  can  be  rendered  avail- 
able. Still,  the  existing  conditions  and  favorable  circumstances  are 
worth  summarizing  in  this  place.  In  a  singularly  careful  work  on  the 
winter  and  spring  climates  of  the  Mediterranean  shores,  Dr.  J.  H.  Ben- 
nett, of  England,  arrives  at  some  important  conclusions  respecting  the 
localities  of  the  Spanish  coast.  To  begin  with,  the  vital  distinction 
has  to  be  noted  that  the  Peninsula  (leaving  out  the  corner  abutting 
on  the  Atlantic)  possesses  two  distinct  climates :  first,  that  of  the  cen- 
tral raised  plains  stretching  from  range  to  range  of  its  several  mountain- 
ribs ;  and,  second,  that  of  the  sea-level  and  the  latitude  in  which  the 
country  lies.  The  former  is  perforce  much  the  colder,  and  is  subject 
to  raw  winds ;  the  latter  is  mild  and  uncommonly  dry.  The  health 
regions  of  Spain  are  confined  to  the  east  and  south-east  coasts,  where 
the  land  subsides  nearly  to  the  sea-level,  and  is  open  to  the  balmy 
influences    natural    to    the    latitude.       Dr.  Bennett    observes    that    the 


HINTS   TO   TRAVELLERS.  209 

north  and  north-west  winds  precipitate  their  moisture  in  the  moun- 
tains of  the  central  regions  of  Spain,  and  that  the  north-east  winds  are 
drawn  down  to  Algeria  by  the  Desert  of  Sahara,  which  creates  a  sort 
of  vacuum  compelling  them  southward.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  they  do 
not  molest  the  eastern  coast.  Hence,  in  the  words  of  this  physician, 
"the  eastern  coast  of  Spain  is  probably  the  driest  region  of  Europe, 
drier  even  than  the  Genoese  Riviera."  Accordingly,  Murcia,  Alicante, 
Valencia,  Tarragona,  and  even  Barcelona  —  far  north  though  the  last- 
mentioned  is — all  offer  extraordinary  advantages  of  climate  to  the  aver- 
age run  of  patients  afflicted  with  chronic  chest  disease,  pulmonary  con- 
sumption, chronic  bronchitis,  bronchitic  asthma,  chronic  diseases  of  the 
kidney,  debility  and  anaemia  from  any  cause,  and  the  failing  vitality  of 
old  age.  Cadiz,  too,  possesses  a  most  equable  temperature.  It  is  noted, 
however,  by  the  writer  whom  I  follow,  that  the  dry  air  of  these  places 
is  injurious  in  those  exceptional  cases  of  chest  disease,  of  nervous 
asthma  and  neuralgia,  which  are  found  to  be  aggravated  by  a  stimu- 
lating atmosphere.  Dr.  Bennett's  theory  is  that  the  towns  just  referred 
to  lie  under  a  qualifying  disadvantage,  inasmuch  as  they  stand  at  some 
distance  from  the  mountains,  thus  permitting  the  cold  winds  from  the 
latter  to  fall  into  the  plain  and  sweep  the  towns  to  a  certain  extent. 
But  in  this  connection  he  seems  not  to  remember  that  in  Nice,  at  least, 
the  invalid  population  are  now  and  then  scourged  by  the  cold  northern 
bise  rushing  down  the  Rhone  to  the  sea.  The  most  serious  objection 
to  these  Spanish  towns  is  the  want  of  comfortable  and  airy  quarters 
for  invalids.  Again,  at  Malaga,  which  has  been  so  highly  recommended, 
the  sanitary  conditions  are  such  that  any  benefit  from  the  climate  is 
likely  to  be  nullified  by  the  evil  influences  of  a  want  of  drainage,  and 
of  latent  pestilence. 

Here  it  may  be  mentioned  that  the  Alhambra  hill,  at  Granada,  is 
much  resorted  to  by  Spaniards  in  summer  as  a  cool,  airy,  and  healthful 
spot ;  and  truly  there  is  none  more  lovely  in  its  surroundings  on  the 
globe,  so  far  as  it  is  usually  permitted  man  to  see.  In  and  about  the 
Alhambra,  too,  small  cottages  may  be  hired,  where  the  sick  and  weary 
may  rest  after  their  own  fashion,  and  keep  house  for  themselves,  with 
docile  native  servants.  But,  whosoever  fares  to  Spain  in  search  of  bet- 
tered health,  let  him  not  mount  the  Alhambra  hill  save  in  spring,  nor 
enter  the  Mediterranean  towns  until  after  September.  And,  above 
all,  let  him  avoid  the  fatal  error  of  supposing  that  the  high  regions  of 
the  interior  will  offer  any  influences  more  soothing  than  those  of  harsh- 
tempered  New  England. 

U 


^10 


SPANISH   VISTAS. 


This  consideration  remains,  that  whatever  obstacles  to  complete 
comfort  may  exist,  the  perfection  of  the  coast  climate,  the  stimulus  of 
scenery  and  surroundings  so  unique  and  picturesque,  and  the  resources 
of  observation  or  of  historic  association  opened  to  the  sojourner  in 
Spain  are  likely  to  have  a  good  effect,  both  mental  and  spiritual. 


IMPORTANT  ART  BOOKS. 


Herrick's  Poems. 

Selections  from  the  Poetry  of  Robert  Herrick.  With  Drawings  by 
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Highways  and  Byways*, 

Or,  Saunterings  in  New  England.  By  W.  Hamilton  Gibson,  Au- 
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Pastoral  Days. 

By  W.  Hamilton  Gibson.  Superbly  Illustrated  by  the  Author.  4to, 
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Travels  in  South  Kensington. 

With  Notes  on  Decorative  Art  and  Architecture  in  England.  By 
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History  of  Ancient  Art. 

By  Dr.  Franz  yon  Reber.  Revised  by  the  Author.  Translated 
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Heart  of  the  White  Mountains. 

By  Samuel  Adams  Drake.  Illustrated  by  W.  Hamilton  Gibson. 
4to,  Illuminated  Cloth,  Gilt  Edges,  $7  50.     (In  a  Box.) 

Cyprus:  Its  Ancient  Cities,  Tombs,  and  Temples. 

By  Louis  Palma  di  Cesnola.  With  Portraits,  Maps,  and  400  Illus- 
trations.    Svo,  Cloth,  Extra,  Gilt  Tops  and  Uncut  Edges,  $7  50. 

Ilios,  the  City  and  Country  of  the  Trojans. 

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History  of  Wood-Engraving. 

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J  id  porta  nt  Art  Books. 


Pottery  and  Porcelain  of  all  Times  and  Nations. 

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Art  in  America. 

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The  Ceramic  Art. 

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Songs  from  the  Published  Writings  of  Alfred  Tennyson. 

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Published  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  New  York. 

df°  Harper  &  Brothers  will  son!  any  of  the  above  works  by  mail,  postagi   prepaid,  to  any  part 
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